The Heartbreaker
by Echoes of Shadows
Summary: Sometimes the best things happen unexpectedly. Certainly this is Antonio's opinion at the moment. The handsome stranger he met upon moving to a new town in Italy seems to be able to do almost no wrong. Until he digs a little deeper below the surface and begins to discover an unsettling reputation. And if the rumours are true, is it wise to trust a man known as 'The Heartbreaker?
1. The Stranger

**Hetalia is not mine.  
****Warning: Contains swearing, and slight sexual themes later on.  
**

* * *

Antonio smiled as he breathed in the sweet air, his eyes bright with the exuberance of starting life in a new place. Forete was an Italian coastal town, large enough to contain more than enough of the modern amenities that littered cities, but still managing to retain the safeness and intimacy of a much smaller town. It was aesthetic, airy and welcoming. Antonio had fallen in love with the place when he'd visited his friend Gilbert here that previous year, and had decided that he would move there the first chance that he got.

So here he was, several months after that visit, setting out to explore his new home. He hadn't seen much of the place yet – last year's trip didn't really count since it was so long ago and he'd only just moved here yesterday evening. Most of the day he'd spent unpacking all his belongings into his new apartment. He'd never known that he had so much stuff until he'd moved house, and it had taken ages to even try to organise. But now it was Friday evening, the time when towns came alive to their fullest as their inhabitants shrugged off the shackles of the working week and headed to the town to forget their cares. Antonio couldn't think of a better time to integrate himself into the town and its people and had been looking forward all day to going out.

He deliberately wasn't meeting up with Gilbert this evening, as he wanted to find out about his new home by himself, and especially to make his own new friends. It was nice to know people, but being the awkward friend-of-a-friend stood to the side of a group was never the most comfortable place to be, so Antonio preferred to be by himself this evening and make his own new friends. He'd spoken a bit to Gilbert by text, and they'd meet up later, probably at the weekend, once Antonio had familiarised himself with the place a bit.

It was nearing the end of summer and the early evening air was comfortably warm, creating an atmosphere that was relaxed and reflective, but also ready to rise up and develop into something much more exciting, should the opportunity arise. As he headed down the main road, his eyes caught the sight of bright green shining white-gold in the slowly fading light of the sun, and Antonio smiled to himself. One thing he loved about this place was its veritable abundance of greenery. Even the main roads had well-kept grass verges, and most other roads had lush, leafy trees lining them, their opulent branches gleaming in the low evening light. As he'd grown up in a large city where even parks were scarce, and especially as a lover of the outdoors, Antonio was more than approving of the beauty. Birds chirped in the branches in a sunset chorus, and Antonio had to restrain himself from laughing and dancing to their music. It was exhilarating; he was loving every moment.

He wandered the town's paved streets for a while, watching the cars whoosh past on the road nearby and groups of people wander the streets, chatting amicably. It really was a great place to be, and although Antonio didn't know anyone yet, he already felt like part of the town, and would do so even more once he started his new job on Monday.

But he wouldn't go visit his workplace today. Tonight was for fun, for exploration, for unfamiliar surroundings. To be right at the heart of his new town at its best, and to find the niche here in which he would belong.

As he got further into the town centre, the few odd groups of people turned into smaller crowds, laughing and talking as they headed to their many varying destinations. The buildings grew taller, although no less aesthetically pleasing, and lit up with signs advertising the establishments within. Antonio drank in the array of sights, some of which he vaguely recognised, others which were completely new to him. They were in all colours and styles, from gaudy stores to sophisticated restaurants to quirky specialist shops.

One place in particular caught his eye from across the main square as he passed by; a unique and intriguing place that held an air of excitement. Gentle but vibrant shades of blue swirled up the edges of the building in a way that was both elegant and stylish at the same time, melding together in twisted ripples at the top, where waves of cobalt, cerulean and white threatened to crash over the words '_Le Onde'_. Antonio smiled appreciatively at the beautiful artwork. Someone had obviously put a lot of caring time and effort into the creation of the mural, and the work had really paid off.

From the muffled vibrations coming from inside, Antonio guessed it was a nightclub, and, as he pushed the brass-handled doors open, he was not disappointed. Loud, upbeat rhythms accosted his ears from speakers across the other side of the room, with a couple of groups of stylishly-dressed people dancing in the middle. The large room was busy, but not packed, and dark enough to create an atmosphere without being too hard to see. A gleaming wooden bar ran down one side, with brightly coloured signs advertising drinks scattered along its length.

"Hey, watch it, you're blocking the door," an irritated voice sounded from Antonio's right, and he turned to see a burly man dressed in black standing just on the inside of the door. His head was shaved down to a number one, and his rough face decorated with a scowl, which was aimed directly at Antonio. At a guess, he was a bouncer of some kind, which meant if Antonio didn't move, he was likely to get kicked out, which really wasn't a good start to his socialising.

"Ah, sorry," Antonio smiled, quickly moving off into the club. He'd been thinking about checking out some of the local establishments this evening, and this place seemed as good as any to start with.

He leant against the wall – also splashed with intricate wave designs – on the side of the club opposite to the bar, content for the moment just to people-watch until he felt the music drawing him in to dance. It was inevitable that that would happen at some point that evening – Antonio loved dancing. Even more so if he had someone to dance with, but he didn't expect to find a partner today. Although the Spaniard was affectionate to everyone, he hadn't met the person he truly loved yet, and he wasn't really looking for someone at the moment for anything beyond ordinary platonic friendship. It didn't matter, though. He was more than talented at dancing solo as well.

So he just stood at watched for a while, enjoying the music's vibrancy. The evening was still young; he could stay here for a while, and still have plenty of time to go elsewhere if he felt the need. In the back of his mind he was vaguely watching for a group that didn't look too close-knit for him to join, so he could get to know people, but it seemed that most of the patrons were close friends, and Antonio knew enough about socialising not to barge in uninvited. His cheerful green eyes slowly scanned the room, absently watching. A group of girls were clustered on the dance floor, giggling at their own attempts to outdo each other's dancing. Over in the corner, a girl – no, wait, a guy – wearing a sparkly purple shirt clutched the arm of his nervous-looking brunet friend, as if trying to persuade him into dancing. Back by the bar, a loud young man with wild blond hair gesticulated wildly with a sloshing pint of beer while another, paler, man futilely snapped at him to shut up. Antonio smiled again. That was the best thing about people-watching. You realised that everyone had their own lives, their own set of problems, and you could never feel truly alone in the world.

Eventually, though, he found his mind wandering away, and he headed off towards the bar in search of a drink. Perhaps he'd try somewhere else soon, get to know many places a little bit as opposed to only one place intimately.

Tapping his fingers cheerfully to the music, Antonio settled on one of the red leather stools, and was about to signal to the bartender when something caught his eye.

Or rather, someone. A young man was sat a few metres away up the bar, lounging easily against the edge as if he lived there. Soft waves of brown hair accented his slightly tanned skin, with an unruly curl springing off the right side of his head. His eyes were the most curious shade, halfway between golden-brown and green, sparkling hypnotically in the flashes of the dance floor's lights. A glass of wine was balanced between the tapered fingers of one hand, with the other held up emphasising a point in conversation. Much to Antonio's disappointment, his companion was a pretty young woman who seemed to be hanging onto his every word, stood nearby with a hand endearingly twisting a lock of honey-blond hair.

Antonio wasn't quite sure who this young man was, or why he stood out so well against the crowd, but he couldn't deny that he was intrigued. Maybe he'd go talk to him, if he got the chance, which admittedly was unlikely.

Then, to Antonio's quiet delight, a taller man headed up to the couple and put a protective arm around the blond girl, pointedly steering her away from the other young man with a sharp glare. In the back of his mind, Antonio wondered how the brunet deserved such a harsh look, but dismissed it as either ordinary jealousy, or that the pair had some history that he didn't know.

More importantly, he now had a chance to go and talk to this strange person who'd caught his attention. Even though it was most likely that they had nothing in common and would never speak again beyond this evening, Antonio never believed in ignoring things, as he would forever be wondering 'what if'. Besides, it was in his nature to be friendly, and Antonio loved doing what came naturally to him.

So he picked himself up off his seat, thoughts of ordering a drink forgotten, and took the seat next to the young man, who spotted his arrival and turned slightly, one eyebrow raised.

"Hi there," Antonio said brightly, resting casually against the side of the bar and turning a winning smile to his new acquaintance.

"_Buongiorno_," the other replied, with a quiet, Italian-accented voice. His tone could only be described as cautious, but Antonio guessed it was just the whole meeting-strangers-in-bars kind of thing, and couldn't really blame him for it.

"It's quite a place here, isn't it?" Antonio smiled, instantly wishing he could have started off conversation with a less generic phrase, however true it may have been. "It's all so vibrant and cheerful."

The young man's eyes gleamed, regarding Antonio critically with their hypnotic colours, and for a moment he felt almost like he was being analysed in some way. "I haven't seen you in here before. You new to town?"

"Yup!" Antonio replied. "I just moved here yesterday, and I decided to look around the town a bit. It's really great here – I love it! Everything's so pretty and full of life. It's so different to where I used to live."

"It is nice here, isn't it?" the Italian agreed, taking a sip of his wine. His words were more of a statement than a question.

Antonio nodded eagerly. "So nice! I came here last year, when I visited my friend, and I instantly knew I'd like to live in a place like this. Everyone was so friendly when I last visited, although I haven't made any new friends here yet. Which is why I'm talking to people here."

"Oh really? Then how come I haven't seen you talking to anyone else?" This question came accompanied by a suspicious, yet slightly amused tone.

"Huh? You've been watching me?" Antonio asked curiously. It'd be rather nice if the handsome young Italian had noticed him as well. On Antonio's first night here, too. Almost like fate of some kind drawing them together, maybe.

The other coughed back a blush and scowled endearingly. "Hell no, damn it! I just noticed you for about half a second on the other side of the room and you were by yourself. No social interaction at all."

Antonio laughed good-naturedly. "I was looking for people to talk to. A lot of people seem to be with their friends today. You were the first interesting person I spotted, so I came over to say hi."

"Hmph," the Italian replied dismissively, if it could be considered a reply. For some reason, Antonio found the other's cute scowl and slight shyness more enchanting by the minute. He was certainly glad he'd come over to talk to him.

"Oh!" Antonio gasped as he suddenly remembered. "I never introduced myself. I'm Antonio Fernandez Carriedo. And you are?"

Those mesmeric golden-brown eyes regarded him for a moment, before their owner replied, "Lovino Vargas. So I'm guessing you're Spanish, by your name."

Antonio nodded delightedly, glad to be recognised. "Yup! I grew up in Spain, then I've travelled a bit once I left school. I've been to Germany, and France, and even England, although I don't like it there much. It rains too often and it's kind of cold, even in summer. And eventually I moved here after I visited a while back and really liked it."

"I've never been to England," Lovino replied. "But I've heard it rains a lot there, and I hate the rain. It's why it's much better here – lots of decent sunshine."

"_Sí_," Antonio agreed. "I much prefer the sun to the rain. It makes everything look so happy and everyone is much more friendly."

Lovino hummed for a second, then scowled. "Why the fuck are we talking about the weather? What is this, forced conversation in a company elevator? Tch!"

Antonio felt his heart drop at the harsh words, and he bit his lip uncertainly. There he was again, rambling away pointlessly about nothing in particular. Way to make friends and impress someone, talking about generic topics was. He'd once had a ten-minute conversation with someone about how they didn't know what to talk about. That had been more than embarrassing, but Antonio hated silence, and especially awkward silence, and so did everything he could to avoid it. Friends were supposed to chat and laugh freely, not avoid eye contact wordlessly. And he wanted to be friends with this young Italian. He was intriguing in a way Antonio hadn't come across before; sharp and withdrawn mixed with a vague tinge of adorableness, and blunt almost to a fault, yet there was something in his eyes that made Antonio unable to look away. And so he wasn't going to stop trying just yet.

"Hehe, sorry," Antonio apologised. "So, are you from around here?" He mentally winced – this question wasn't much of an improvement on the last one. But what was he supposed to talk about? Tomatoes'd be a great topic, or turtles, as Antonio loved both, but it was highly unlikely that Lovino knew much about those. Which was a shame, but they were bound to have _something_ that they could talk about together.

"Yeah," Lovino replied off-handedly, swirling his remaining wine around in the bottom of his glass. "Lived here most of my life, mainly because I haven't found a place where I prefer to live. That's not to say I haven't been elsewhere, though. Rome's nice, although its big, and busy, and there's not much natural there. France is all up itself about being French. And Germany..." -he shuddered violently- "let's not even go there. Full of Germans. Disgusting. Italy's the best place to be." He shot Antonio a look as though daring him to argue.

Antonio pondered this for a moment. "Germans aren't all bad. What's so wrong with them?"

"There's one of them dating my brother, and he's a complete dick. And his brother's a narcissistic jerk, and the rest of them are all big scary macho potato eating bastards," Lovino answered firmly, his face now set in a glare.

"Oh," Antonio murmured, not entirely sure what to say. He really wasn't sure what to make of Lovino so far. He did seem a bit prejudiced against Germans, but everyone had someone they hated. On the other hand, it was completely adorable how he was protective of his brother.

There was a slight pause in conversation, then Lovino cocked one ear to the music with an interested expression, and placed his now empty wine glass on the bar. "Say, if you're Spanish, that means you're good at dancing, doesn't it?"

"I love dancing!" Antonio replied happily. "Hey, Lovi, d'you want to dance?"

The Italian rolled his eyes. "That was the point of the question, idiot." But he pushed himself up off the barstool and extended a hand, which Antonio gladly took in his own and the two headed to the centre of the dance floor, where the opening bars of a lively song were just starting up, a enticing mix of strummed guitars and synthesised violins.

"Are you good at dancing, Lovi?" Antonio asked, as the two slowly started up, trying to gauge the other's style and match their movements. Improvising a dance was hard unless you were used to it, more so if you were with a completely new partner. Antonio rather considered himself an expert at dancing, but he had no idea of the experience of his new acquaintance.

Lovino grinned, a bright expression that was so close to a smile. Antonio instantly decided he liked it. "Bitch, please. You think you're up to my rep? I'm the best at this, at least in this town."

Antonio returned the grin with a confident one of his own. "Well, you'll have to try keep up, or your position might just get usurped."

It was quite probably that Lovino would have replied with another snappy comeback, but then the song launched straight into its chorus, and the two immediately stepped up their respective paces to keep up with the swift thrums of the beat. As Antonio tuned his ears expertly to the music, he noticed the song was in Spanish, in an upbeat style vaguely reminiscent of flamenco. The familiar style helped him slide naturally across the floor as he leant into the music and let his body move naturally with each beat.

The two twisted across the room, sometimes dancing hand in hand together, sometimes trying to outperform each other solo, growing more confident in their movements as they began to determine the style and form of both the piece and each other. Lovino hadn't been lying earlier – he _was_ a good dancer, more so than Antonio had anticipated. But it wasn't as if Antonio was struggling to keep up, not at all. No, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve, and as the music spun back into the first repeat of the chorus, he pulled Lovino closer, turning their dance into more of a salsa.

As he glanced down and locked eyes he saw the Italian smirk at him, pressing closer as they swung around and sliding one hand down Antonio's side before spinning away and back again. Antonio blinked slightly in surprise, but didn't allow it to put him off. This had clearly gone past the point of competition here; now it was just becoming flirty. But Antonio was just fine with that, and there were few ways better to express things than through dance, in his opinion. If Lovino wanted to play, then play they shall.

Their dance slowly became ever faster and more passionate as the music drove onwards, their movements more fluid, each seeming to second-guess the next move of the other and responding as if they'd been dancing together for years. Lovino's form leant snugly against Antonio's as if it had been made to fit there.

Antonio's limbs moved automatically, the way they'd learned many years ago, with Lovino matching each move as it progressed, fighting for the lead and for dominance, but never quite prevailing. Their speed was still increasing as they reached the bridge, reaching fevered paces and somehow still fitting together without a single noticeable mistake. With a sharp shout, the music snapped out of the instrumental section and Lovino's hips twisted against his own. An electric shock sparked through Antonio, and he suddenly remembered he was supposed to be showing Lovino who was the better dancer. Antonio shifted his weight and dipped the Italian to the side, a move which the other hadn't been expecting, judging by the look on his face.

But he recovered fast, and the duo quickly returned to their improvised routine. Antonio's brain was beginning to feel clouded. When had it become so _hot_ in here? Sure, it was a fast-paced song, but it wasn't overly exerting. Yet all Antonio could think of was the touch of Lovino's warm skin against his own, his eyes flashing a thousand colours in the bright lights of the club, and the way that they danced together like they were almost of the same mind. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on. Somehow it felt vaguely like they'd risen high and away from everything and were now dancing on clouds, yet had still taken the darkness, vibration and frenzied furore of the club with them, all surrounded by a delicious heat that drove everything faster and closer.

And all of a sudden, the song snapped into its abrupt finish, the pair freezing in place against each other as their brains fought to catch up with where their bodies had been leading them. Lovino was slanted close against him, one hand outstretched and the other clutching Antonio's, with the Spaniard's spare arm locked around his waist. With a swift cough, and a murmur of disappointment from the older male, Lovino disentangled himself from Antonio's arms and stepped away, just as the rest of the room burst into applause. Apparently they'd gathered an audience for their unexpected performance, judging from the appreciative looks and loud whistles of approval.

"_Ah, grazie, grazie_," Lovino called, waving graciously to the small crowd as he retreated back to where the two had been sitting previously. Flushed and exhilarated from their fervent dance, Antonio followed, collapsing on the seat next to Lovino.

He grinned at the Italian, blood and adrenaline still pounding through his veins. His heart was pounding a hundred and fifty beats a minute and absolute elation pulsated through his light-headed brain; he felt like he could jump, fly, run a hundred miles. As it had been in the dance, he still couldn't seem to take his eyes off Lovino, it was like the Italian had a magnet in his head which unfailingly attracted Antonio's eyes. Not that he was complaining – Lovino was extremely pleasant to look at.

"Wow. That was pretty amazing, Lovi," he laughed breathlessly, watching the Italian's face, which had reverted back to the scowl that he now was guessing was characteristic to Lovino. "You weren't lying when you said you were good. I haven't danced like that in ages."

Lovino raised an eyebrow, brushing back his sweat-slicked hair with one hand. "Can't exactly say that you sucked at that either, bastard. Not often that I have competition. You trained or something?"

"I had a few lessons when I was younger," Antonio shrugged, still unable to keep the smile off his face. "But my teacher said my skill mostly comes from natural talent, so I'm just lucky, I guess. I won a lot of competitions in high school, but it's been a while since I've done anything aside from the occasional light-hearted dance at parties and stuff. It's almost a shame, really. I love dancing, especially if it's as amazing as that was."

Lovino clicked his tongue slightly, as if unsure how to respond, and his eyes flicked away from Antonio's. "You don't need to bother with all the compliments, damn it."

"Why not?" Antonio shrugged. "It's perfectly true. I'm just letting you know what I think? Why, don't you like it, Lovi?"

"It's not th-" Lovino suddenly raised a hand. "Hang on, what the fuck is a Lovi?" He had that endearing but slightly embarrassed scowl back on his face, and Antonio had to resist the urge to pull him close and hug tightly.

"It's a nickname!" Antonio replied brightly. "I like giving people nicknames as I get to know them, and this one's cute, like you."

"Hmph." He broke off suddenly and turned, raising one hand in a signal. "Oi, Alvise! I'll have a refill, _per favore_." The scruffy-haired bartender who was passing nodded wordlessly and wandered off to the other side of the bar in search of a glass. For a moment, Antonio wondered what an Alvise was, then realised that it was quite probably the man's name. Lovino seemed to be on good terms with a lot of people here.

The bartender returned a minute later with a glass of the same wine Lovino had had earlier, and Antonio ordered a drink of his own, before continuing his conversation with Lovino. Their dance had well and truly broken any ice remaining between them, and the two continued talking for quite some time, with conversation topics ranging from films to high-school capers to football. Antonio was quite pleased to discover that, as well as dancing, the Italian shared another common interest in the sport department, although they did differ in their favourite teams.

Much of the conversation, on Lovino's part at least, consisted of insults and swearing, but Antonio assumed it was just Lovino's way of socialising, and pretty soon it just became background to their actual exchange.

Suddenly, Lovino yawned slightly and glanced at his watch, blinking sharply in surprise. "The hell? Where's my evening gone to, damn it? I'd better get off soon, it's late."

A wave of disappointment hit Antonio as Lovino said this, but he tried not to show it. He'd really enjoyed his evening with this profane yet fascinating young man. Antonio had no idea of how much time had passed, but as he looked around, he noticed that the dance floor was now virtually deserted and the music much quieter, more slow-dance material. A lot of the tables and booths were also empty, with the few patrons remaining either staring into their drinks gloomily or loudly debating drunken shenanigans with bloodshot eyes and vacant expressions.

"What time is it?" he asked Lovino, mentally berating himself for not not wearing a watch of his own and wondering how much time had passed without him realising.

"Ten to two," Lovino replied, scowling in disbelief. "Stupid bastard, stealing all my damn time. Got a fuckton of stuff to do tomorrow, and here I am staying out all night. Heh."

Antonio couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic about having wasted his evening talking to Antonio or not, and a tiny spike of hurt bit into his mind, although he was quick to push it down and smile. "There's nothing wrong with having a good time. I really enjoyed this evening with you, Lovi."

"Hmph," Lovino grunted dismissively. "Well, I'd better be going already. See you around, jerk." He abruptly stood up, stretching his neck slightly to alleviate its stiffness, and began to stride away from the bar and towards the exit.

"Hey, Lovi, wait!" Before he knew what he was doing, Antonio leapt to his feet and quickly followed Lovino through the double doors and into the quiet street outside. Surely Lovino wasn't intending just to go like this. Weren't friends supposed to keep in touch? Or were they more than friends? Antonio wasn't quite sure at the moment. That dance had definitely suggested so, but nothing else had outwardly spoken of that.

Then again…Antonio really didn't want Lovino to leave, and he knew well what that meant.

The two were out in the street before Lovino registered he was being spoken to and paused for a moment, then turned, a curious but unreadable expression on his face. "What?"

"Uh…you fancy doing something like this again sometime?" Antonio asked nervously, giving Lovino another bright smile for good measure.

It may have just been the yellow light of the streetlamps angled on his face, but Lovino's eyes seemed to glint. "Alright. Why the hell not."

"Great!" Antonio scrabbled inside his pockets for a piece of paper. "What's your number?" He usually kept something of that ilk on him, or at the very least a pen, but his fingers found only the soft fabric of his clothes, and a thin vein of panic shot up his heart. Damned circumstance, stopping him from keeping in touch with Lovino just because he'd been too preoccupied to keep a piece of paper in his pocket. "Ahh…oh no! Paper, paper, paper, where is it?"

Lovino rolled his eyes at Antonio's frenzied search and scoffed. "Use the contacts in your phone to store it, idiot. Paper's for philistines."

"Oh!" Antonio gasped, instantly feeling foolish for not realising the obvious. He quickly retrieved his phone from the pocket of his trousers and clicked to the contacts menu. Lovino relayed a string of numbers at him, and after a couple of attempts, Lovino's pocket lit up with a bright melody and Antonio beamed.

Lovino quickly tapped his phone to get it to stop playing music and returned it to his pocket. "Right. Now I'm really off. _Ciao, bastardo_."

"Bye-bye, Lovi!" Antonio called, waving at Lovino's retreating back. "I'll call you sometime! Have a good night!"

Inside, Antonio was delightedly celebrating. Success! He may not have come to this club, or even this town, looking for someone special, but he certainly seemed to have found one. And developed a good rapport with them, too, if you could call being sworn at among lines of conversation a rapport. He was definitely going to call Lovino back. But he'd give it a couple of days. Obvious social etiquette, that was. He didn't want to seem desperate.

Antonio headed back down the street in the direction of his apartment with a broad smile across his face. This had definitely been a great way to start his life in a new town.

* * *

Seeing as Land Beyond Dreams is almost finished, I thought I'd begin to upload something new that I've been working on for a while.  
The club's name translates to 'The Waves' and is inspired by a book of music I have by Ludovico Einaudi.  
Bonus: Guess which characters have unnamed cameo appearances at the bar!


	2. The Flirt

It was Monday evening when Antonio decided to call Lovino back. Reasoning being; it had been long enough for him not to seem desperate or over-eager, but short enough for him to seem fairly interested. Although personally, Antonio thought it had been too long a wait. Not that he'd say it out loud yet, but he really wanted to see Lovino again. They'd had a really good time the other day, and Antonio was rather hopeful that it wasn't going to be the only one.

Truth be told, he'd been finding it hard to get the intriguing Italian out of his mind. Whenever he started a task, he'd remember the electric touch of Lovino's skin against his own and immediately forget where he was, and a pair of sparkling golden-brown orbs in his mind's eye kept irresistibly drawing him away from whatever he was doing. He knew enough about Lovino for him to no longer be considered a stranger, but there was enough about him that remained a mystery for Antonio to spend ages wondering about different possibilities. For the most part, work had been a useful distraction. He'd started his new job today, which had turned out to be the most fun he'd ever had at a job, and time had almost flown by. If Lovino was to accept his invitation out this evening, then it would be the perfect end to a great day.

With a thudding heart, Antonio clicked through his phone contacts until _'Lovi~'_ was highlighted, but it took several seconds of nervous excitement before he was able to press the button to connect the call. He sat down on his sofa and held the handset up to his head as it buzzed industriously.

It took half-a-dozen rings before a voice answered, "_Pronto?_"

"Hi, Lovi!" Antonio replied excitedly, a smile across his face even though he knew Lovino couldn't see it. It was just his automatic reaction.

There was a noise from the other end of the phone that sounded like a sigh. "_Oh, it's you. Should have known._" Antonio wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or pleased by this, but he wasn't dissuaded in the slightest. Lovino's voice didn't sound disappointed, after all. Perhaps it was just a standard greeting for him; he hadn't seemed like the most outwardly affectionate of people, and this was his way of saying 'Hi, I missed you'. _Yes_, Antonio mused, _this_ _seemed_ _likely_.

"Yup! I did say I'd call you back sometime. How are you?"

"_Not bad, I guess. Work kinda sucked, but that's usual. You?" _

"I'm great, thanks!" Antonio beamed. "I started my new job today, and it's really fun. My boss is a really nice guy, and all the customers were really friendly and understanding even though I'm new. I think I'm going to really like it there."

"_Oh, right? What was it you said you did? Don't think you mentioned it the other day_."

"You know the Two Arches café? I work there, just started today. I don't have a specific position yet, so I was just doing a little bit of everything to see what I'm good at. I like cooking the best, but talking to the customers is fun too. It's a great way to meet people, which is great 'cos I barely know anyone yet."

There was a short laugh from the other end. "_You've got friends here now? Good, you won't need to bother me, then._"

Antonio started, almost dropping the phone in his alarm. "No! Lovi, I really enjoyed our evening the other day. Just because I know other people doesn't mean that I don't want to know you. I like you. Besides, I don't know them as well as I know you." Antonio was pretty sure Lovino wasn't serious, but he couldn't stop his voice from coming out horrified and quickly halted himself to stop himself getting carried away.

Lovino laughed again; this time it was probably at Antonio's stupidly obvious panic. "_Don't lose your head, bastard._"

Antonio joined in the laugh, keen to keep the conversation from reverting to awkward silence. "I won't."

"_You sure about that?_" he heard Lovino tease from the other end.

The two laughed for a few seconds, then Antonio drew his breath back and decided to turn the conversation to where he'd intended to by calling. "Hey, Lovi. Would you like to meet up at some point this week? I really had fun on Friday, and I was wondering if you'd like to do it again?"

He froze at the short pause that followed, but let out a silent breath of relief when Lovino replied. "_Sure, I guess. Where and when?"_

"Uhh…Wednesday, maybe? Is that alright with you?" Antonio mentally cursed himself. He'd been so caught up with the possibility of phoning Lovino that he hadn't thought this far ahead, and was now having to think on his feet with only rudimentary knowledge of the town. Forward planning was an area he really needed to work on in the future.

"_Reckon so. As long as it's the evening_."

"Sure," Antonio replied, smiling again as in idea struck him. "We could go out for dinner, maybe? Do you know a good place?" It would be best if Lovino picked somewhere, as he knew the town best, and Antonio wouldn't make himself look like an idiot if he picked somewhere bad.

Lovino hummed thoughtfully, considering the idea. "_The Riverbrook, on the edge of town. It's not bad._"

"Ooh, I don't know that one. Where is it?"

Antonio could almost hear Lovino roll his eyes as he answered. "_What do I look like, Directory Enquiries? Get a map or something. Or look on the Internet. It's not hard to find._"

"Ah ok," Antonio replied, unperturbed by Lovino's bluntness. He'd gotten used to it the other day, more or less. "I'll find it. What time? Is seven ok?"

There was a strange rustling noise, vaguely like the pages of a book being flipped rapidly and Antonio wondered what Lovino was up to on the other end. "_Seven…yeah, ok. I'll see you then._"

"Ok! That's great." Antonio was growing more elated by the minute as the arrangements progressed. This was actually beginning to happen!

"_Right. Bye"_ Lovino said rather abruptly.

"Bye-bye, Lovi!" Antonio quickly replied, and out of habit found himself casually waving, even though he knew he was in the middle – or rather at the end – of a phone call, and soon afterwards Lovino hung up. Antonio frowned slightly as the dialling tone poked him unpleasantly in the ear. He hadn't realised 'I'll see you then' meant 'This is the end of our phone call', and it had rather surprised him. But he didn't really mind much – he was far too excited now. He was meeting Lovino. And that was what mattered at the moment.

But the question now was, in what capacity were they meeting? Again, nothing from their conversation had suggested that they were anything more than ordinary friends, and it was quite possible that was just what Lovino thought they were. Then again, there were moments that suggested otherwise, like during the dance. Normal platonic friends didn't dance so close, especially when sober, and Lovino had definitely responded to it instead of protesting. And Antonio was past the point of denying that he was attracted to the other man, so he had to admit that he was preferably looking for a relationship of some kind with him. But, most importantly, what did Lovino think?

Antonio shook his head. He was just going to stress himself out if he kept thinking like this, and it wouldn't solve anything even if he did. Perhaps he'd go play some guitar. Or feed his pet turtle. The little guy was so cute. Like a certain Italian…

Why was Wednesday so far away?

XxxxX

Two days of eternity later, Antonio was stood outside The Riverbrook, which turned out to be an upscale restaurant with marble pillars either side of the doorway. The front of the building was tinted black glass, so it was hard to see the inside without obviously pressing your face against it, but Antonio guessed it was easy for patrons inside to see out if they wanted to. He wasn't quite sure of the point of it apart from for show – a form of privacy, perhaps – but it certainly looked sophisticated, albeit a little intimidating, from the outside.

The restaurant hadn't been too hard to find, thankfully, but that was because the internet had once again proved its usefulness. He'd only had to search 'The Riverbrook' and the town name, for it to come up with a rather fancy-looking website, complete with photos and map. It had turned out to only be a fifteen-minute walk from Antonio's block, which had been really useful, as he'd been worrying about being late or getting lost on the way there, especially as he didn't currently own a car and was forced to walk everywhere until he got one.

He'd spent a rather inordinate amount of time wondering what to wear, though, as he both wanted to impress Lovino and didn't know much about the restaurant. It had looked like a fairly expensive place from its website, which meant street casual was out of the question, but the question then became 'how smart was it?' Antonio didn't want to turn up in a suit when everyone else was just wearing a shirt and jacket – he'd look horrendously overdressed. And most of his clothes suddenly turned shapeless and inappropriate as soon as the calendar declared it Wednesday, and had slowly transferred themselves from his wardrobe to the discard pile on his bed as he debated. But eventually he'd settled on a simple dark red shirt with the top two buttons undone, and smart black jeans, in a vague effort to be versatile.

For what seemed like the millionth time, he glanced nervously at his watch, which he'd consciously made the effort to wear so he didn't have to keep checking his phone. The display read 19:11, and the time made Antonio nervous. Was he being intentionally stood up, or was Lovino just being fashionably late?

Four more minutes. Four more minutes and he'd text Lovino to ask where he was. He'd keep it casual, though. No obvious worrying. After all, Lovino was probably just late. There was no way that he'd forgotten, or deliberately wasn't turning up, was there? Was Lovino that spiteful? Sure, he was sharp-tongued and blunt, but Antonio was sure that was just attitude as opposed to intentional maliciousness. He really hoped it wasn't.

"Hey, bastard. Wake up." A pair of fingers snapped in front of his face and Antonio's eyes focused on Lovino's face, which was suddenly in front of him. He really must have been zoned out wondering; it was as if Lovino had appeared from nowhere. The Italian was wearing his now characteristic scowl, and a maroon shirt with a dark blue neckscarf. Antonio very much approved of the look, as he had a few days before. It was classy without being extravagant, and the blue really contrasted with his eyes. Once again, Antonio found himself transfixed, and it wasn't until Lovino snapped his fingers again that he woke up to the world and finally reacted.

"Hi, Lovi!" Antonio pushed himself off the wall and pulled Lovino into a tight hug, ignoring the muffled shout of protest coming from somewhere around his shoulder. Immediately he felt a tingle run across his skin as his fingers contacted the soft material of Lovino's shirt and he felt Lovino's warmth mingle with his own. He didn't really want to let go, but he knew he ought to within a few seconds, otherwise things would get awkward, and it was too early in the evening for conversation to be stilted. So he enjoyed it while he could, and then reluctantly released his grip, mourning to himself as they separated.

"Hmph," Lovino grumbled once he'd disentangled himself from Antonio's arms. "So you are awake. Well, are we going inside, or what?"

"Yes!" Antonio answered excitedly, taking Lovino by the hand before he had any chance to respond, and led him through the doors into the restaurant's interior.

It was brighter inside than the tinted glass exterior would have led to believe, with the walls painted a shade of blue so light it could have been mistaken for white. Ornate black candelabras hung from the ceiling, supplemented by smaller lights dotted along the walls in sky-blue brackets. Yet it didn't seem as exclusive as the décor might have suggested, it was much more open and welcoming. Groups of people were scattered about the tables, chatting enthusiastically with a warm, friendly atmosphere, and most weren't wearing anything more elaborate than Antonio was, which was slightly reassuring for him.

The two stood by a silver-framed sign requesting _'Please wait to be seated'_, with Antonio talking happily about how the past few days had been, and Lovino stood next to him, only half paying attention to what he was saying.

Presently, a pretty young woman wearing a pristine white shirt and black apron bustled up to them and smiled. "May I help you?"

Antonio had been wondering about where was best to sit, and was about to reply, but Lovino cut him off. "Table for two, please, _bella_," he requested, flashing the girl a winning smile, his voice smooth and lilting. The pretty waitress giggled and blushed, one hand in front of her mouth, and gestured for the two to follow her.

Antonio's eyes immediately flared in jealousy. _Bella_?How could Lovino be flirting with that waitress when the two of them were here on a date? Well, Antonio wasn't quite sure that it was a date – he still had to ask Lovino about that – but that wasn't the point! She still wasn't allowed to flirt with his Lovino! He shot the waitress a dark glare, just enough to let her know that she wasn't allowed to infringe on his territory, so to speak. She returned him a smirk so brief Antonio thought he might have imagined it, but he definitely didn't imagine her dropping the heavy leather binding of a menu straight onto his knuckles, making him hiss in pain.

"Sorry about that," she apologised, batting her eyelashes at Lovino, who flicked one hand in a dismissive manner.

"Hey, don't worry about it," he replied, giving the girl another of those stunning smiles, now fully facing her as she leant closer.

Antonio rubbed his injured hand and watched the short exchange, feeling a tight heat rising in his chest. Only the thought that Lovino might get mad at him if he was needlessly rude to the girl kept him from saying anything. He was undeniably jealous now. How come Lovino never gave him one of those smiles? He never knew that Lovino's face was so beautiful when he was smiling, lit up mesmeric and sparkling like a star in the sky. Antonio wanted to be the one to conjure that expression, the one that expression was directed at. Not some girl Lovino had only just met. _But it's not as if you and him have barely met at all_, muttered the back of his mind traitorously. Antonio quickly squashed the thoughts and tried not to visibly glare.

"Would you like to order drinks?" The waitress seemed to have remembered she had a job to do, perhaps because a stern-looking man in a suit was giving her a dark stare from a door at the back of the room, and her conversation was now back to business.

Lovino ran his eyes down the wine list, somewhat expertly. "A bottle of Chianti, I think." He raised an eyebrow briefly at Antonio, who nodded, too eager to get the waitress to leave to disagree, even if he hadn't have agreed with Lovino's choice. She dimpled again, lingering at the table for slightly longer than necessary, then left them to decide, much to Antonio's relief.

With a barely perceptible sigh, Antonio rested his elbows on the table, barely paying attention to the open menu in front of him. He was more focused on trying not to look like he was fuming. He wasn't going to let that waitress get any further when she returned for their orders, that was for certain.

Unfortunately for him, Lovino noticed his lapse into silence. "Oi. You haven't fallen asleep, have you? Some dinner conversation you make. Tch!" The Italian was disinterestedly cleaning his fingernails, a classic sign of wandering attention.

Antonio mentally swore. In his annoyance, he'd forgotten to keep up a good impression, and quickly backtracked to try distract Lovino from his own irritation. "Huh? Oh, sorry. I was just thinking. What to have for dinner, that is." It was a good enough excuse, as excuses went, as there was a fair amount of choice, but Antonio was still annoyed at himself.

"Just pick something, it's all good," Lovino shrugged, giving him a strange look. "I know this place fairly well, so I can vouch for a lot of stuff on the menu."

"You been here a lot, then?" Antonio asked, trying to return to the casual sense of conversation they'd had before that waitress started poking her nose in where it didn't belong.

The Italian shrugged off-handedly. "A few times. I got a summer job here in high school one year, to earn some extra money. They pay fairly well." Lovino looked slightly wistful at this point; obviously it had been nice to work here.

Antonio laughed, glad to release the tension. "That's great. What did you do?"

"Waiting tables and that, mostly," Lovino replied. "I'd have liked to have cooked some stuff, but the bastards in management didn't want a teenager handling all their food. Idiots are scared of getting sued if I burnt myself or shit." For some strange reason, he jumped slightly, almost imperceptibly, at this, as if he'd done something wrong. Antonio was about to ask about the strange behaviour, but guessed it was probably just that Lovino hadn't meant to curse in the middle of a restaurant and didn't pursue the subject.

"That sounds really good, though. I'd have loved a job when I was growing up, but I lived in a really busy city, so there were about fifty people for every job and I never got a chance at one. Meant I was always short of money!" he laughed.

"Don't spend so much then," Lovino retorted, one eyebrow raised as if it was obvious.

"Are you ready to order?" A new voice asked from off to their right, and Antonio turned to see a short, brown-haired waiter stood nearby, a thin notepad in one hand and a dulled silver pen in the other. The bottle of wine had somehow materialised on the table nearby.

Antonio was infinitely pleased that it wasn't the girl from earlier, even though he knew that nothing would have happened between her and Lovino –especially if he was around – and quickly ordered the first thing that he spotted off the menu without bothering to check what it was.

A few minutes later, as the waiter departed, Antonio realised to his delight that he finally had Lovino all to himself. Well, not entirely all to himself, as they were in the middle of a restaurant, but there were certainly no idiots trying to disrupt their harmony together. The bright smile returned to his face, and he returned his attention to studying his Italian companion. He had so many interesting features; Antonio was sure he could watch him all day. Like that one curl still springing out of his hair; Antonio wondered if it was a deliberate quirk, a talking point, maybe, or if it was just a natural gravity-defying phenomenon. Either way, it was extremely cute, and Antonio got a vague desire to pull it. Not now, though, as it would look a bit weird if he were to suddenly to pull Lovino's hair in the middle of a restaurant.

The two were back to their normal conversation by now, as if nothing untoward had happened at all earlier. Lovino seemed to have gotten caught in a rant about work and his younger brother, but Antonio didn't mind, and he was more than happy to sit there listening and admiring. He didn't know much about what Lovino did, and it was a great opportunity to find out more about him. His job seemed interesting, even if he had unfortunately got stuck in a bit of a dull rut. Feliciano – Lovino's brother – sounded like a nice guy too, if a little ditzy, and Antonio wondered if he was ever going to get to the point where he would meet Lovino's family. Then he realised how that sounded. That was taking the relationship perhaps a little too fast. They ought to have been together for a while before family introductions got brought into it, if only to satisfy social protocol.

The waiter – the second one, again much to Antonio's relief – turned up out of the blue with their food, making Antonio jump as he hadn't been expecting the sudden presence. He placed a dish of what looked like carbonara in front of Antonio, which he was fairly pleased about. It was no paella, but it was certainly something he liked enough to eat without second thoughts. The food wasn't important anyway, so long as it didn't kill him and it certainly wasn't the reason that he'd come here tonight. Across the table from him, Lovino was admiring his own dish, which too was pasta-based, but it was covered in a bright red sauce that looked to consist of tomatoes and nothing else.

Antonio was pleasantly surprised. Lots of tomatoes was always a sign of good taste, in his opinion, although he had yet to discover someone who liked them as much as he did. "Hey Lovi, that looks good."

"Yeah," Lovino nodded, as if the thought was the most obvious thing in the world. "It's their special tomato sauce. It's pretty fucking amazing, and I don't say stuff like that lightly."

Intrigued, Antonio continued. "Tomatoes, huh? Do you like tomatoes, Lovi, or was that just what you fancied this evening?"

Lovino raised both eyebrows at him, almost as if he were an idiot who'd just missed something blatantly obvious, and spoke in tone that matched his face perfectly. "Tomatoes are the best things that have ever existed in the history of the entire universe. I could live off the things, damn it."

Antonio couldn't believe his ears. Lovino was into tomatoes as much as he was, perhaps even more! Most people just thought he was weird for liking the fruit so much, half of them thinking so because they thought it was a vegetable. He'd never previously known someone to like them like he did. "Wow, really? I love tomatoes too! They're pretty much my favourite food, apart from maybe churros. I've never met anyone who likes them as much as I do before!"

Lovino shrugged, a strange half-smile dancing around his lips. "Maybe you've been looking in the wrong places then, bastard. You'll never find people with decent tastes in the middle of a filthy city centre. Brains're too clogged up with money and pollution to think about anything outside the walls of their own tiny damn lives. You did the right thing getting out of there."

Antonio felt like his heart could explode there and then. It was a bit veiled, but Lovino had basically just said that he was glad Antonio had come here! It felt so good to be accepted, perhaps even complimented, by the Italian, and Antonio wasn't sure he could be happier.

It was at this point where Antonio decided to stop playing around and just find out what was going on. He was long past the point of denying he liked Lovino, and was pretty much ready to admit that he was falling for the guy, even though he hadn't known him for very long at all. There wasn't a wrong thing that he could name about him, aside from maybe the swearing. Debonair, handsome, successful, a great dancer, loves tomatoes. What else could Antonio ask for?

He put down his cutlery and made his best attempt to look serious, which unfortunately wasn't something he was very practised at. "Lovi, what is this?"

Lovino looked up again from his food, a piece of sauce-drenched pasta speared on his fork. "What is what?"

Antonio gestured aimlessly around him. "This. What's going on between us? Are we just friends and I'm imagining things, or would this actually count as a date? I don't want to get the wrong perception of things here."

There was a short, agonising pause as Lovino ate the pasta off his fork and twirled the implement around his fingers, all the while regarding him with those hypnotic golden-green eyes. Antonio wished he could read what the other was thinking; his expression was rather strange. "You really are an oblivious dumbass," Lovino replied after a while, looking like he was a shade away from laughing. "With the whole chasing-me-out-the-club thing the other day, I was assuming that you weren't going for the 'just friends' line. Thought you'd have cottoned onto that by now, but apparently not."

"So…we're an official couple now?" Antonio asked hopefully. He knew this was fast; usually you knew someone for a bit longer than a few days before asking them out, but it was pretty obvious where things were leading, and he didn't want to lose Lovino to some bimbo while he was busy being patient and respectful. He wanted this. He wanted Lovino to be his, for them to be together the way he was beginning to imagine them being. And he wanted Lovino to feel the same way.

Lovino shrugged. "If you want."

"Yay!" Antonio beamed, feeling like his heart was about to start emitting rainbow sparks. "I'm so happy!"

"Oh yeah." Lovino levelled his fork at him. "No goddamn hugs in the middle of public, bastard. I know what you're up to." Antonio lost the rest of his sentence in a cluster of muttered curses and his own delirious euphoria blocking his ears, but was far too excited to care. He could easily get around a 'no hugs in public' rule. Hugs out of public, for example. Not-hugs in public. Embracing in public. Kissing in public. He could go on.

The rest of the meal passed in a blur of whirling elation, delicious food, and chaotic conversation. And before Antonio knew it the evening was almost over, with their empty plates gone from the table and only the bill to wait on. Like the first one, he didn't want this evening to end; he couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun just being with someone before. Once it got started, conversation with Lovino just flowed so naturally that time seemed to be taken along with it and evenings disappeared along with his inhibitions. He didn't want to leave his – _his _– Lovino's side. There was just too much to admire about him, and not enough time to do it in. The soft chocolate hair that shimmered in the light, the solo curl with a mind of its own, that lilting voice that wove circles around his mind, yet he could listen to all day…

He quickly zoned back into reality before Lovino questioned him about it again, and just spotted the short waiter meandering away through the tables, having just deposited the bill on the table. Antonio glanced around the restaurant, realising that it was later than he originally thought, and again he wondered how time could pass so quickly. Most of the rest of the restaurant's clientele had disappeared by now, leaving at least half of the tables empty. The people remaining were either on dessert, or standing around their clear table and soon to be leaving. It was a lot quieter, but the odd noises coming from the kitchens at the other end of the room were a constant reminder that the day wasn't quite over. Antonio was rather hopeful that the same was true for his day, but guessed that he was just doomed to dream…for now at least.

To Antonio's surprise, the rather exhausted-looking waiter returned again, even though it had been only a few minutes since he'd last visited. There was a strange black machine in one hand, which Antonio recognised as one of those little machines that you stick credit cards into to pay for things. The end with the keypad and the hole for a card was extended towards them.

Across the table from him, Lovino dug in his pocket and produced a smart leather wallet embossed with the cursive letters of an upmarket design. With a start, Antonio finally realised the obvious – that the bill and the return of the waiter meant that they had to pay, which was what Lovino was in the midst of doing. But he'd asked Lovino out! That meant that he should pay for it. There was no way that he could let Lovino foot the entire bill. His pride wouldn't allow something like that.

He hastily retrieved his own wallet from his trouser pocket and pulled out his credit card. "Hey, Lovi, you can put your wallet away, ok? It's on me."

Lovino gave him an odd look, making no move to return the shiny blue rectangle between his own fingers back to its home. "No way, bastard. I got this."

"Don't be silly! I asked you out, therefore I pay. It's…uh, tradition or something." Inside, Antonio felt like jumping his companion. It wasn't in the most polite of ways, admittedly but Lovino was being so cute and generous that Antonio just wanted to hug him again.

"Nope," Lovino replied shortly but firmly, twisting his shiny credit card between his fingers. "This one's mine."

The pretty waitress from earlier strolled past just as Antonio was about to retort, and the words died in his throat as he noticed Lovino wink at her and smile. She blushed and giggled again, but was on her way to attend a table, so didn't stop, much to Antonio's relief.

Antonio was about to turn and berate his new boyfriend for flirting with someone else in front of him, but, while he was distracted, Lovino had taken the chance to stick his credit card in the little machine and punch in his PIN code. The machine went blank for a second, then beeped happily and spat out a little receipt, which Lovino picked up and placed in his wallet, along with his retrieved credit card. Antonio could only gape like a drowning fish as Lovino looked up at him and triumphantly stuck out his tongue.

And suddenly Antonio wasn't mad anymore. For some reason, he found the little childish gesture absolutely adorable, and he had to admire Lovino's quick wits, if a little grudgingly. Antonio made a mental note to himself that he would pay the next time, though, as it was only fair. He wasn't a gold-digger, and he wanted to treat Lovino right, too, to make him happy and want to stay with Antonio.

The rather confused-looking waiter left a few seconds later with the paid bill, leaving the two to themselves once more.

The Spaniard stood up, picked up his spurned wallet and returned it to his trouser pocket. "Shall we go, Lovi?" He didn't want to go, again he didn't want the evening to end, but hanging around unnecessarily in a restaurant would attract a few strange looks, from the staff in particular. Lovino nodded at him and got to his feet, following Antonio slowly back towards the black, mirrored doors.

Antonio sighed, breathing in the cool, crisp night air as he and Lovino exited the restaurant into the quiet street. The sky was dark now, but scattered with clusters of sparkling stars, constellations Antonio didn't know the names of decorating its depths. It was one of those soft, reflectful kind of nights, where time just seemed to stall in a perfect moment of tranquility. Aside from his and Lovino's footsteps, the only sound was the gentle echo of traffic from the main road across the block, and it was almost a perfect, peaceful soundtrack.

Antonio reached out and gently took Lovino's fingers in his own, twisting his hand slightly so they both had a comfortable grip on the other's digits. He felt Lovino jump ever so slightly at the touch, such a small movement that Antonio was almost certain that he might have imagined it. Lovino was too confident for a simple handhold to have flustered him. He just seemed to be quiet at the moment, just going with it. Antonio, however, was on top of the world. They had a connection now, one visible to everyone, and it gave a tiny glimpse of the wonder that could potentially come. Perfect moments like this, but for the rest of their lives. To Antonio, it sounded like heaven.

The two walked up the quiet street, talking quietly. The words came out more hushed on the street; the mood was different here, and urgency was something that wasn't needed in the slightest. Only the occasional passing car interrupted their peaceful time alone. But, as each step progressed onto the next, Antonio found himself gradually slowing down, prolonging the time he had left with Lovino that evening. He found himself longing for last Friday night, when they had had all the time in the world to get lost in thought and each other's company, and neither had to be at work early the next morning.

After five or so minutes of walking they reached a divide in the road and Antonio felt the tension in his arm increase as Lovino's hand tried escaping from his. The Italian was about to head down the left path, and Antonio's flat was a few streets away down the right. To his disappointment, it suddenly looked as thought they had to part ways.

"Hey, jerk, you can let go of my hand now," Lovino grumbled, flicking his eyes down the mutinous left road that was trying to entice him away. Antonio had never disliked a road before, but he was fairly close to it now. He was sure this one had evil intentions. Yet he made no move to let go. He didn't want Lovino to leave, and he wasn't going to let his slightly playing-hard-to-get boyfriend go so quickly. _Boyfriend_. The word sent a thrilling shiver up Antonio's spine, and he almost couldn't believe this was happening; it was like some amazingly perfect dream. The mood was almost electric, buzzing with mystery and passion.

So instead of letting go, he simultaneously stepped forward and pulled Lovino closer, sending the younger crashing gently into his chest in an embrace. His hand let go of Lovino's in favour of holding the younger man's waist and he drew him in, feeling the warmth of their bodies against each other, a warmth he didn't know he'd missed, even though he'd only known it once before. Lovino looked up, startled by the unexpected hug, and Antonio was immediately lost in golden eyes as Lovino's orbs met his own.

The world almost seemed to hold its breath, as time slowed down to suspend this magical moment for longer. Antonio felt like he was floating, almost frozen, but that was impossible as somehow he and Lovino were still moving, slowly getting ever closer. There were mere millimetres separating them.

Then their lips touched and all possible thought evaporated from Antonio's mind. It wasn't as if this was his first kiss – far from it – but it was the first time he'd been so excited, so mesmerised, so breathless with anticipation. His mind was a whirl; all he could hear was the sound of Lovino's breathing harmonised with his own, all he could see were Lovino's golden eyes sparkling in the moonlight. It was utterly brilliant. Later that evening he'd think back on that moment and smile hopelessly. Two meetings – the first couldn't really have been called a date – and he was acting like a lovesick teenager.

It was short, soft and chaste, but there was clearly the potential for development if Antonio had thought to push it. Like the sky outside, but as if it were about to burst into a display of fireworks. But more than anything else it was mind-blowingly perfect, and Antonio immediately didn't want to touch anyone else in this way again.

Lovino stepped away, pulling his arms slowly back to his sides, a faint red tinge shimmering on his cheeks and his eyes refusing to meet Antonio's.

The Spaniard stepped forward and pulled him back into a tight hug, never wanting to let go, and a giant smile appeared across his face. _This is what bliss is_, he thought happily. _Being with the one you love. I can't really deny that I love Lovino now; I'd only be lying to myself. If this were to last forever, I wouldn't mind one bit. But it happened so unbelievably fast. I hope Lovi feels the same way about me too. Or at least that he will do so at some point soon. I never imagined this when I first came here last week. Accidentally in love, how cliché. But it's better than I ever could have thought. So much better._

"You gonna let me go yet, jerk?" came a muffled voice from somewhere around the vicinity of his shoulder, a somewhat uncomfortable movement as Lovino's jaw moved against Antonio's shirt.

"Ah, I suppose I have to," Antonio replied. He didn't want to, but eventually Lovino would get annoyed if he didn't. With a quiet but barely repressed sigh he let go, hands lingering on Lovino's hips for ever so slightly longer than they ought to and his eyes never leaving the younger man. "I'll see you soon, right?"

Lovino shrugged. "If you like."

"No, Lovi, it's if you like too!" Antonio protested. He didn't want to have forced Lovino into this, that would almost be worse than rejection. For a brief moment, uncertainty flared in his heart and his smile faltered.

Lovino sighed, staring up at the sky for a moment, lost in thought, before returning his attention to Antonio. "Saturday's a good day. I'll call you sometime. Or you call me, I don't care."

Antonio smiled, realising the apathy was just Lovino's way of agreeing. Someday, he thought, he'll get Lovino to agree properly on something. And smile, a smile out of pure bliss, not just out of charm or politeness. That was his new challenge to himself. "Alright, Lovi. I'll see you then."

Although Lovino nodded slightly in agreement, neither of them made a move to go. The silent sound of the night echoed off the buildings, noticeable only as something other than background noise if one was deliberately listening. But as much as Antonio wanted to stand there staring at Lovino forever, he knew he had to go, as he had to be up tomorrow morning to go to work.

So, with a vaguely regretful smile, he turned to go up his road and quietly said, "_Adiós, _Lovi."

"Yeah, _ciao_," Lovino replied, still watching him with those beautiful eyes as he too made to leave.

At the same moment, they both broke eye contact and went up their separate ways, Antonio still trying to contain the spinning happiness that had lodged itself in his chest like pressurised helium. After a few paces, he turned, and just managed to catch a glimpse of Lovino before the Italian passed behind a building and vanished from view. But even the smallest sighting swelled Antonio's heart, and, if possible, his smile grew. Yes, Lovino had gone for now, but there were many more times ahead of them as a couple, and Antonio couldn't wait for their next chapter together.

* * *

Oh, Lovino, don't flirt like that. *shakes head*

So yes, chapter 2! Lucky this is up today. is being annoying about cookies, and I just had to delete all of them manually to get in without losing stuff from other sites. Damn you cookies and your internet-y deliciousness.

I'm surprised at how fluffy the earlier parts of this are turning out, though. Unlike my last story, this one won't just be from Antonio's point of view. We'll be hearing from Lovino's side of things sooner or later, once things get interesting. ;)


	3. The Reputed

Ever since Wednesday, Antonio had been in a fabulous mood. He'd taken to humming blissfully while working, dancing across his apartment, staring absent-mindedly into space, and even singing to his pet turtle, Cielo, who hadn't paid attention to anything but the lettuce in front of him. Nothing seemed to be able to bring him down, and so little had gone even slightly wrong that it was like the sun was shining down on him with its full force and he was completely untouchable.

Of course, this was down to his magical evening with Lovino. The memory of their kiss lingered in his brain like a star-studded imprint. Every so often, when he was in the middle of something completely unrelated, something would remind him of Lovino and the memory would spring back, sending a bright, euphoric spark up his spine and a giant smile rushing to his face. A few people at work had asked what he was so happy about, but luckily he was already developing a reputation as a generally cheerful person, so they hadn't been all that many.

Not that Antonio would have cared if they had asked further. He'd refrained from telling people at work about anything much, as he didn't really know them and it would be strange if he started spilling his heart out for no reason. But Antonio had spent the few days or so with little else on his mind, and thinking just wasn't the same as filling someone else in on the entire situation, summing up his thoughts from the start to the present. He didn't care who, but he wanted to talk about it with _someone_, to share his experience and have someone who could join in with his excitement.

And in the absence of family, or other new friends, Antonio decided to go and visit Gilbert again. He'd been across the previous Sunday, once he was properly settled in, just to catch up and chill with his old friend, but he hadn't mentioned Lovino, as he thought it would have been weird to bring up a guy he'd met once and hadn't got anything permanent with. Especially if it was obvious that he liked him. Gilbert would have relentlessly teased him and turned everything he said into pure innuendo. But then, that was just Gilbert's flamboyant personality. Antonio was sure that, now there was actually something between him and Lovino, Gilbert would, once the initial teasing had subsided, be supportive of his friend.

The German – self-declared Prussian – lived a few blocks away from Antonio, in a town house with his younger brother Ludwig, whom Antonio hadn't met yet. It was a clean, whitewashed building, with tangled creepers above the bay window and an immaculately trimmed privet hedge down the side. There was a driveway out front that was obviously meant to hold a car, but the green Volkswagen that had been there when Antonio had previously visited was absent from the gravelled space. Antonio glanced at it briefly, hoping Gilbert wasn't out, but then remembered that Gilbert had said that it was Ludwig's car. The elder German was rather annoyed that Ludwig never let him drive it. Apparently Gilbert was irresponsible, an accusation which he always vehemently denied.

Bouncing with excitement, both from seeing his friend and his seemingly permanent –and Lovino-based – happiness, Antonio stopped on the doorstep and pressed the doorbell, listening to the shrill chime echo through the walls. There were a few thrums of disjointed conversation audible from inside, then the glossy wooden door was pulled back and Gilbert's scruffy-haired face appeared in the gap.

"Huh? Oh, hey, Toni! What're you doin' here, man? You should have called the awesome me to say you were coming!" But from the looks of the wide grin that was plastered across his friend's face, Gilbert wasn't fazed in the slightest about Antonio turning up unannounced. He wasn't exactly the type to live life to a strict timetable, and to him, surprises were the sort of thing that just made life so much better.

Antonio returned the grin with a beam of his own. "Hiya, Gil. It's not a bad time, is it?"

"Hell no!" Gilbert laughed uproariously. "Never a bad time for my awesome friends! Francis is here at the moment – you know, the guy I was telling you about on Sunday when you came over? You spoke to him on Skype that one time? You guys can meet! We can be like an awesome trio!" With that, he enthusiastically grabbed Antonio's arm and pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them.

Antonio liked Gilbert's house, which he supposed was also Ludwig's too, but he didn't really know the younger brother. It was perhaps a little too clean and ordered for his liking, which was Ludwig's doing, considering that Gilbert's basement room was a haven of entropy. But it was bright and airy, a place where someone could feel welcome. The air smelled faintly of dog fur, but mostly of oil and spices, which was a strange but not unpleasant combination. Once when Antonio had come over last year, it had smelled deliciously of fresh-baked cakes, and Antonio had spent most of the visit trying to stop his stomach from growling at the appetising scent.

"Go on through to the lounge and I'll introduce you to Franny," Gilbert told him as he stepped over the threshold. "First door on the right, if you've forgotten."

"Gil, I was here on _Sunday_," Antonio laughed. "I won't have forgotten where things are that fast." He headed down the hardwood-floored hall and entered the first door on the right into the lounge.

The room was decidedly more messy than Antonio had previously seen it, but at a guess that was because Ludwig was out at the moment. The younger German, as Antonio guessed at least, would have had a fit over the state of the room. Crisp packets and beer cans littered the floor, which was spattered with mud from Gilbert's filthy boots. In the corner, a golden retriever was curled in a purple checked basket, fast asleep with its head on its front paws.

On the far sofa, a strange man was lounged luxuriously across the cushions. His hair tumbled to his shoulders in graceful flaxen waves, a stubbly beard covered his chin like he hadn't been bothered to shave for a couple of days, and his pristine white shirt had several more buttons undone than was considered normal. He was regarding Antonio with a pair of crystal clear blue eyes, but it was a strange look, almost hungry.

"Ah, Gilbert, who is this?" Francis asked. From the sounds of his accent, he was French, and Antonio immediately remembered being told this fact the other day. "You did not tell me we had another guest due today. _Bonjour_,_ mon cher_. I am Francis Bonnefoy. And you are?"

"Antonio," Antonio replied happily, sitting on the other sofa, next to where Gilbert had plonked himself after barging past. "Great to finally meet you." He'd spoke to Francis once before, when the Frenchman was over at Gilbert's and had commandeered Gilbert's instant messenger while the German was visiting the bathroom. Needless to say, the resulting conversation had been convoluted, confusing and innuendo-laden. But, if he had to admit it, it had also been highly amusing and it had given Antonio a good idea of Francis' personality, which was unusual to say the least. For a purely internet-based conversation, they'd got on very well.

"Ah, likewise. Gilbert has told me much about you. But he did not mention you had such a great ass." Francis gave him a bright wink and smiled.

Antonio blinked in surprise, not expecting such a greeting, despite how his previous encounter with the Frenchman had gone. "What?"

Gilbert burst out laughing again. "Kesesese! Franny! Seriously, you hit on anyone! Can't you control yourself or what? This is fucking hilarious! You can wipe that look off your face, you know, Toni. 'S'long as you keep your eye out, Franny isn't going to molest you." But still struggling to control his laughter, he buried his face in a green-fringed cushion and howled.

Deciding that Francis was just joking around to break the ice, as opposed to actually trying anything, Antonio joined in the laughter and settled back against the cushions. "Heh, that's a relief."

"Or at least, not when you're watching," Gilbert added, although somewhat indistinctly as the words were spoken through a mouthful of foam and polyester.

The three laughed again, Antonio somewhat less nervously than before. He was pretty sure Gilbert was joking, and just decided to brush off all remarks unless something actually happened, which he doubted it would.

Gilbert, who'd retrieved his head from its nest in the cushion, grinned and settled back against the sofa, drawing his feet up with no regard for the grime his mucky leather boots were smearing on the gleaming leather. Evidently he was enjoying the absence of his houseproud younger brother. He cocked his head at Francis, then turned back to Antonio. "Yeah, but Francis isn't a bad guy or anything. He's just a bit of a perv sometimes. Like a lot." He smirked again and shot Francis another look, as if to say _Ha ha, what are you going to do about it?_

Francis blinked, half in surprise, half out of dismissal. "No, no, Gilbert. Do not get the wrong impression of me from him, _mon nouvel ami. _He likes to say things more bluntly than they are in reality, and in doing so, he loses the true meaning of the words. I merely respect the natural beauty of people."

"Respect, pfft," contradicted Gilbert, still smirking. "You respect people's personal space about as much as I respect that aristocrat's piano playing."

"Bringing up Roderich unannounced again, Gilbert?" Francis teased, giving his friend another wink. "Is there something you want to tell us?" This wiped the smirk off Gilbert's face faster than a dirt spot off his brother's kitchen counter and he glared at Francis.

Naturally, this was confusing to Antonio, who had no idea of what they were talking about. Who was Roderich, how was he related to Gilbert, and where did the piano come in? Obviously there was something here, although Antonio wasn't sure whether this was actual, or whether Francis was just poking fun. "Uh, I think I've missed something here. What's going on?"

Francis smirked. "Oh, that depends. Roderich Edelstein, you see, is a rather talented pianist, who is Gilbert's rival for the affections of the lovely Elizabeta Héderváry. On the surface, the two hate each other. But the question is, how closely are hate and love connected? Gilbert is jealous of the other two going out, but, which one is he jealous of?"

Gilbert swiftly flipped Francis off. "Shut up, Franny. I do not, repeat _not_, love either of them. The aristocrat's a pompous dick who thinks he's so great just 'cos he can play the piano like a douchebag, and Elizabeta's…you know…just a friend, that's all. Nothing more, _verstehen_?You just think there's sexual tension in every conversation anyone has."

"That is probably because there is. But you need not worry. As Freud said, '_One is very crazy when in love_'." Francis clasped both hands to his chest dramatically and winked at Gilbert.

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Gilbert growled. "I'm not in love with either of those idiots. Get that into your tiny brain before I punch you into next week."

Francis laughed. "So violent, _non_? No matter. I will let you have your denial for now. I cannot allow my beautiful _visage_ to become damaged by your careless punches."

"I'm not in denial!" Gilbert objected again. "Now change the subject before I show you how accurate my 'careless punches' are." He shot a glare at Francis, but it wasn't a particularly threatening one. From his earlier conversations with Gilbert, Antonio knew how often love-related banter came up, and the teasing wasn't meant to be offensive, only embarrassing. The threats were just a way of covering that embarrassment without losing face.

With a knowing smile, although it was debatable how much he knew, Francis carelessly waved a hand. "Do not worry. He will not strike me, he merely threatens. It is fine. So, Antoine, how are you settling in here? Gilbert says you've only just moved to town." Francis smiled good-naturedly and sat forward a little. Antonio briefly wondered at the strange pronunciation of his name, but again brushed it off as a quirky French thing.

"Great! It couldn't be going better if I wished it!" Antonio answered happily, and he was being completely truthful.

This quickly brought Gilbert back into the conversation. "Oh? The awesome me is intrigued. You didn't seem quite this happy the other day, Toni. I mean, you're usually happy, but this is a bit more than that. What's new?" He had one eyebrow raised, and his expression looked like it was about to break into a smirk any second.

Antonio just smiled, finally glad to have an excuse to talk about what he came here to talk about. "I've got a boyfriend~," he said happily, unable to stop himself sounding like a gushing lover. Which, he supposed he almost was, if he hadn't have only known Lovino for a week.

"Already? Toni, you straight-up player!" The wily smirk broke loose as Gilbert hooked an arm around Antonio's neck and roughly messed Antonio's hair with a loosely-clenched fist. "Damn! Ok, how'd you do it? Tell the awesome me everything, and don't leave out any dirty details."

"Mmm," Francis agreed, leaning forward in anticipation, the hungry look back in his eyes. "I wouldn't mind you including those, either. Go on."

"Well," Antonio started. "I met him on Friday. I know, first day I moved here. It was like a dream, or maybe fate~. Anyway, I went downtown that evening once I'd got unpacked and went into this club called _Le Onde_."

Francis nodded approvingly. "I know that place. You have good taste, _mon ami_."

Smiling, Antonio continued. "I was in there for a while, listening to the music and things, and then I just saw him sat at the bar when I went to get a drink. He just stood out from everyone else – I'm not sure why. So I went to talk to him, and we really seemed to hit it off. We've got quite a lot in common. He's a really great dancer too, so fluid and passionate in his movements. The whole thing was completely surreal. I felt like I'd been dancing with him all my life. After that we just lost all track of time talking. He's really great, like the perfect person, almost. It's a bit too early – like, way too early – to say that I think this is the real thing, but I'd like to think that it could be."

"So...you guys met once? And why didn't you tell me about this on Sunday?" Gilbert asked, trying and failing to act offended – he was far too busy smirking to pull it off.

"Because I didn't know what it was at the time," Antonio explained. "I hadn't phoned him back by that point, and I wasn't really sure where things were. But we met up again on Wednesday, and he agreed to be my boyfriend, which is why I'm still completely excited now! I didn't know it was possible to actually feel like you are about to bounce off ceilings~!" He bounced up and down slightly on the sofa to emphasise his point, a sheepish grin on his face.

Gilbert's grin was back across his face in full force. "Way to go, man! Not been here a week and already you're a wanted man! You're out to rival Francis at this rate! Kesese! Anyway, who is it already? I wanna know if I know 'em, and if not, I want to meet them! We could do a kickass triple date of awesome!"

Francis laughed and winked again. "We could, if you were able to get a date, Gilbert!" he teased.

Gilbert scowled and jabbed a thumb towards his chest. "Hey! The awesome me is perfectly able to get a date any time I want. It's just that being alone is too much fun at the moment. Anyway, Toni, tell, tell tell! Who is it already?"

"Well," Antonio confessed. "His name's Lovino, and-"

"Whoa! Stop the train, Toni!" Gilbert yelped suddenly, all traces of the previous humour gone from his face and his hands outstretched. "Lovino, as in Lovino Vargas? Youngish, dark brown hair with a dodgy curl off the side, swears all the time?"

"Yeah, that's him. Why, what's up?" Antonio was intrigued – why was Gilbert so alarmed all of a sudden? Did he know Lovino? Were they enemies, or even worse, exes? The smile vanished from his face and he bit his lip uncertainly. He didn't want his boyfriend and best friend to hate each other.

Gilbert gritted his teeth, as if he wasn't entirely sure that he should be saying what he was about to. "You're new here, Toni. You don't know this guy's rep. You do not, repeat not, want to be dating _him_. Seriously."

Antonio examined Gilbert's face for any sign of a joke or sarcasm, but, to his surprise, found nothing. For once, Gilbert was being completely serious, and this scared him slightly; Gilbert wasn't the serious type. "What's wrong with Lovino?"

"Ooh, the question there,_ mon ami_," Francis replied cryptically, "is where to start."

"What?" Antonio exclaimed. "There's so much of a problem that you don't even know where to begin? What's possibly that bad about Lovi?"

Francis shot Gilbert a glance, as if asking for something, and after a moment Gilbert blew a tense breath through his gritted teeth. "Toni, you're one of my best friends, even though I haven't seen you all that often. And I don't wanna see you get hurt, especially by a guy like Lovino. He's not worth you, man."

Antonio frowned. "Get hurt? What do you mean?"

"Lovino Vargas…" Gilbert hummed thoughtfully. "Well, I suppose I can't really skirt around this, so here it is, plain and simple, as told by the awesome me. You see, around here, by most people at least, he's known as Lovino The Heartbreaker."

Antonio blinked in disbelief. Lovino…The Heartbreaker? What on Earth…? It couldn't be true. Gilbert had to either be joking, or seriously misguided.

"He's dated half the girls in town," Francis seemed to be the more skilled when it came to words and took over from Gilbert, regardless of Antonio's shock. "Actually, it's probably more than that, by our reckoning. Each one has been romanced by charm, sweet words and an image of perfection. The female population can't get enough of him, and they fight over him like he's a priceless jewel." He clicked his tongue wistfully.

Antonio was still confused, although his brain felt like it was being slowly squeezed. But he kept battling for Lovino. "So he's had a few girlfriends. Is that so much of a bad thing?"

Here, Francis raised a manicured finger, his expression one of warning. "That alone is not the bad part. The problem with Lovino Vargas, or the problem that is most pertinent for you, is that every relationship is just a game for him. Once a girl, or even occasionally a guy, has fallen for him properly, when they're completely in love, that's when he drops them. And he drops them hard. Just out of the blue, when you think everything's going great, Lovino turns up uninvited and says that it's over. Oftentimes it's for little or no reason. He just feels like exploiting them. Like hurting them. For fun."

Antonio felt like he'd been shot through the heart. He blinked hard, as if trying to wake up from a dream, but nothing would alter his vision, or the painful words targeting his ears. He just couldn't believe that Lovino, the beautiful, fiery, yet slightly shy Lovino that he knew, would be such a heartless person. It just seemed impossible. Why would Lovino ever do that to people? Yes, he did seem a bit blunt, but surely it was nowhere near as bad as deliberately hurting everyone who ever loved him?

He shook his head defiantly, refusing to believe what he was hearing. "It…He can't be. It's just not in him to do that. You guys have got to be having a laugh." He pulled a smile onto his face, but it was strained so forcefully that it almost looked like a grimace.

"Nope. Sorry, Toni, but that's the truth." Gilbert was looking a bit deflated by this point, but then, the conversation had to be a downer on what had to have been an exciting evening until that point. "The 'really great, almost perfect' person you've met is a liar and a con artist. He probably isn't even what he's acting like."

Francis took over again to clarify, taking note again of Antonio's look of confusion at Gilbert's last sentence. "He's seemed 'almost perfect' to so many different people, to the point that suspicions are high that he is purely acting. A subtly different personality to match each relationship, if you will. I don't know how he does it. Perhaps he is able to gauge a person on sight well enough to tell what sort of suitor they like." The Frenchman sighed, but there was a strange tone to it. "I am somewhat envious of his talents at romancing. However, the man has no idea of the meaning of love, and for that, I feel only pity for him. He has missed out on life's great mystery and treasure, and plays people purely for the joy of their pain." He shook his head sadly , sending his long blond hair rippling like disturbed wind chimes.

Antonio sat frozen, mouth half open and feeling the world spin again. His friends had to be playing a joke; maybe they were jealous and trying to separate him from Lovino out of spite. What they were saying couldn't be real. Either way, he wasn't going to let their poisonous words make him hate Lovino. Antonio could never do that. In his mind, a vision of Lovino's face, blushing slightly after their first kiss, swam into view, and Antonio almost felt like smiling again. There was no way his little Italian could ever be a heartless deceiver. How could anyone ever hate anything so adorable? It just wasn't possible.

"Look, you guys," he began. "I appreciate you looking out for me, but seriously, there's nothing like that going on with Lovino. Maybe the rumours are wrong, maybe it's a different Lovino, but I know in my heart that my Lovino isn't a heartbreaker." To his ultimate disgust and embarrassment, there was a note of fear clashing with the confident tone of his voice.

Gilbert grunted, and his little yellow bird jumped up onto his shoulder, head cocked curiously towards Antonio. If it was possible for a bird to look concerned, this one did. "Toni, I'm not telling you how to run your life. But Lovino Vargas is not awesome at all, and if you get any further into this, you're only gonna end up getting hurt, just like everyone else who's fallen under Lovino's spell. As your friend, I don't want that to happen. That would be so un-awesome."

"As I said, thanks, but I know Lovino. He's just not the person you're describing him as." Antonio got to his feet, looking almost like he was going to scowl, but there was too much uncertainty and fear in the equation for the anger to clearly show its face. "I'm going to go now. I'll be fine, you'll see. I'll see you guys later." With that, he turned around and headed for the door, hoping that neither of them would call his bluff and tell him to sit back down. He just wanted out of there before either of them could destroy his thoughts about Lovino. Thankfully, Gilbert and Francis didn't reply, but Antonio, being faced the other way, didn't seem them exchange worried looks as he walked out.

As he trudged back up Gilbert's road, combative thoughts swirled like competing winds in his mind. Were his friends being spiteful, or supportive? Should he have just walked out of there once he'd seen that they were at loggerheads, or stayed and further talked the whole situation out? Was he right in walking out at all? Most importantly, how much of what they were saying was true?

He couldn't deny that he was worried – Gilbert was never serious unless the situation really was serious – but he wasn't going to pivot away from Lovino on the basis of one rumour. Perhaps he'd talk to Lovino about it tomorrow, phrasing it as a joke, and see what he said. If the rumours were real, Lovino would probably know all about them and would tell Antonio what things properly were. And then…then everything would be alright. He'd show Gilbert and Francis that. They were wrong.

They had to be.

* * *

Introducing the (rest of the) Bad Touch Trio! And also the angst! *le gasp* What have you been up to, Lovino?

On an unrelated note; School's Out (for ever)! *sings* More time for writing, hopefully, but irregular updates will always be irregular :P


	4. The Contradictor

After calming down later that evening, Antonio had phoned Lovino, if only for some reassurance. He hadn't mentioned what Gilbert and Francis had said, as it would sound suspicious and serve only to drive Lovino away if he spoke about it immediately by phone. He wasn't going to avoid the subject altogether – it was preying on his mind far too much for that – but he was going to wait until they were face-to-face before bringing it up. That way, he could watch Lovino's reaction, such as it might be, and there was less danger of Lovino avoiding the subject altogether, or worse, hanging up.

He didn't want to admit it, but Gilbert's words really had gotten to him, even though he hadn't wanted them to. It couldn't be denied that he'd only just got to the town, and people's reputations were something that he'd never bothered with. He didn't like to think about the possibility, but could Lovino have a dark side that he never would have guessed at? It did seem like he'd got attached to Lovino rather quickly, but Antonio had just put that down to himself being an affectionate person and Lovino being someone he'd like to be with. He couldn't begin to think about if that was actually because Lovino was lying and being manipulative. It was hard to put the deceptive and harsh image that Gilbert had conjured and put it on top of his sweet little Lovi.

But, even the act of talking to Lovino had calmed him down; a lot of the suspicious thoughts vanished from his head as the conversation progressed, and Antonio was starting to wonder why he'd been suspecting him in the first place. For the moment, Antonio was content to wait until they met up the next evening before discussing things, although he definitely wasn't going to wait any longer than that. There had to be some sort of closure on this, although Antonio was afraid that it was going to end up with one side or the other turning out to be a bad guy.

XxxxX

The next day passed slowly enough, and even the seemingly lengthened period of time hadn't been quite enough for Antonio to get his thoughts in order. Every possibility was running through his mind, ranging from blissful to disastrous, and he had lost track of which ones were most likely to happen. His brain hurt from thinking it all. However, he had been much reassured when Lovino arrived. Unlike last time, Lovino had only been about five minutes late, and Antonio hadn't been too worried about him. Well, he'd been pacing outside the cinema for twenty minutes or so before Lovino arrived, checking his phone every thirty seconds, and his nails were a wreck, but he hadn't resorted to texting or phone calls to check that Lovino was coming, so he was considering it a success. The first of two successes, in fact. The other success of the evening was him managing to pay for both of the tickets – much to Lovino's chagrin until Antonio persuaded him otherwise.

But even when Lovino was there, the traitorous thoughts began to slowly filter back, and they were stopping him from acting normally. Throughout the film, Antonio had wanted to get closer to Lovino, to hold hands, to put an arm around his shoulders, maybe even to kiss a bit. He was longing to be closer to the younger Italian, like they had been at the end of their last time together. But he'd been too nervous and uncharacteristically shy that evening, and hadn't tried anything. Part of him was still worrying that the person he was with wasn't with him for the right reasons, and the rest of him was too annoyed at the first part thinking that for him to have any brain space left for romance. Plus, the film had been more of an action/adventure film with few emotional or romantic scenes, and the moment had never felt right to try anything. Or at least that was how Antonio tried to reason it to himself.

Truth be told, he was just a little scared. And this was not like him at all. Usually, in anything ranging from casual acquaintances through ordinary friendships to passionate romances, Antonio was fairly forward; always saying what he was thinking and moving without prior analysis. It was his nature to act on impulse. But now, he didn't want to do anything that might make Lovino uncomfortable, or worse, scare him off, so he was only acting if he thought it was right. And this was so out of character for him that it was beginning to set him on edge. With no effort, Lovino had burrowed his way into Antonio's heart, and the power that he was beginning to have over his emotions was terrifying. Antonio wanted to be with him, to make him happy, but was afraid of losing him in the process. Or – and this thought was not going away at the moment – that what Gilbert told him was true. Or that it wasn't true, and Antonio's fear of it being true was going to cause him to do something stupid and drive Lovino away in the process. It was a veritable nightmare of possibilities and suspicions, and it hurt to think about for too long. It _was_ hurting, in fact.

Something sharp poked him abruptly in the arm, and Antonio turned his head to see Lovino shooting him a curious look.

"Oi, jerk," Lovino said upon realising he had Antonio's attention. "What's up with you? You've been zoning out all night. Am I not interesting to talk to or something? 'Cos I can go home now quite easily."

"No!" Antonio protested, latching onto Lovino's outstretched arm and mentally cursing himself for not paying attention again. It was really become a problem. He hadn't noticed that Lovino had been partially ignored for the best part of the last few minutes. "Don't go! I was just…kinda distracted."

Lovino raised an eyebrow, instantly guessing that something was wrong. "Well, either out with it or forget it."

Antonio bit his lip, suddenly unsure that bringing up what Gilbert said was a good idea or not. But, since it was more or less out in the open now, he didn't seem to have a choice. And…it was kinda cute how Lovino was concerned but trying not to show it. "Well…I was talking to my friend Gilbert yesterday, and he said some stuff that, well, kinda bothered me. And it was, uh, about you."

"Goddamn it," Lovino sighed, somewhat scowling. "You want to be careful about rumours. There're some serious asshats in this town, who do nothing more than spread shit about people 'cos they're too stuck up their own arses to come to terms with the fact that they're losers who can't move out their parents' basements 'cos of their own ineptitude."

Antonio was surprised that Lovino was so blunt straight off the bat – it was almost defensive. Or maybe that was just himself being paranoid. All he could think to say, though, was, "It's his brother's basement, actually."

"Same diff'," Lovino shrugged, annoyance preventing a triumphant grin from crossing his face. "What'd the bastard say, anyway? It's certainly got you a bit upset."

"Well, he was saying that you're known in this town as 'The Heartbreaker' and you just play with people's emotions for the fun of it. Is…is that true?" Antonio twisted his fingers together anxiously, half afraid of the answer he was about to receive.

Lovino blinked sharply at him, then his face returned to a scowl and he growled scornfully. "This again? Goddamn bastards." Fear briefly shot through Antonio's heart before Lovino ran a hand through his hair in irritation and continued. "I'll give you the short explanation. There are a few –quite a few – people in this town who don't like me, and they're intent on destroying and friendships or relationships that I have just to get at me. So they spread stupid rumours like that. I'm not gonna lie – I have dated a fair few people, but I don't play games with them. That's just low, seriously. I'm just hard to get on with and I don't want to get stuck in something that's not going to work out, so I end things before it gets too serious if it's not going well. I wouldn't break up with someone for the 'fun' of it, unlike what some bastards believe. Don't you get caught up in thinking that too."

Relief flooded Antonio's mind as his hopes were granted. Gilbert was just mistaken. It wasn't the truth, it was just a rumour. A silly, pointless, lie of a rumour. _Thank God,_ Antonio thought. _I knew my Lovi wasn't like that. The rumours are lies. Because that's all they were – just rumours. Nothing worth concerning myself with._ "So, it's not true?"

"Not a word," Lovino replied firmly. "Don't go believing shit like that. Seriously."

"Thank goodness," Antonio smiled involuntarily. He reached out a hand and entangled Lovino's fingers with his own. "I didn't think it was true, I didn't want it to be true."

"Well, you're one of the few guys in town with sense, then," Lovino muttered bitterly, obviously annoyed at the derogatory rumours that were slandering him around town, and his tone was one note away from snapping. But he didn't let go of Antonio's hand, unlike some other times, which in itself was a good sign, and Antonio was too relieved to try considering otherwise. "The rest just seem to either be rumour-spreading idiots or hate me."

Unluckily for Lovino, this was the wrong thing to say to an emotionally-fragile Antonio, who tried to stop himself from panicking, but the floodgates were open and the forecast did not seem good. "Wait, does that mean Gilbert and Francis hate you? I don't want to be forced to choose between you guys! It'd be so hard. Gilbert's been my friend for ages and Francis is a good guy – but the other option is you! Ahh, I can't decide!"

"Calm down, idiot," Lovino retrieved his hand from Antonio's hold and mock-swatted him around the head, creating a sudden flurry of air where his fingers came close to contacting brown curls. "It doesn't mean your friends are the bad guys. Might just mean that they've heard something from somewhere and are judging me by that 'cos they haven't met me. Don't let it bother you."

Antonio smiled again. Lovino was so adorable when he was pretending not to be concerned, and he couldn't resist giving in to that look. "Ok, Lovi. If you say so, then I believe you."

"Good," Lovino muttered. "Glad that's sorted out. Gullible bastard."

"Aw, Lovi, I'm not gullible!" Antonio protested, squeezing the Italian's fingers and giving him a look that was supposed to be severe, but he was far too busy smiling to be able to pull it off. Relief was such a tonic, and Antonio had never been good at being sad for too long. It was his nature to be happy, and this revelation definitely made him so.

Lovino scoffed, completely unconvinced by Antonio's protests. "Are too. Look, it's even written on the ground."

"Really? Where?" Antonio looked down, scrutinising the floor for some sign of the writing that Lovino had mentioned, but to his surprise, there was nothing.

Meanwhile, Lovino had burst out laughing. "See? Gullible as fuck, you are."

"Hey!" Antonio exclaimed, realising he'd been had and playfully swatting at Lovino with his free hand. "That's not fair!"

"Your fault," Lovino shrugged, still chuckling to himself as he fended off Antonio's mock-blows. None of them contacted, nor were designed to hurt, but he batted them away nonetheless.

After a minute or so, the pair's laughter slowly faded into the peace of the night, and Antonio caught Lovino's other hand with his own so the two were now facing each other, Lovino's characteristic scowl crossing his face as he realised he was being observed. He quickly broke eye contact, much to Antonio's disappointment, and stared uncertainly at the star-studded sky.

"I should be heading back now – it's getting kinda late."

Antonio was about to protest vigourously when he glanced at his watch and saw that Lovino was indeed right. It wasn't as late as they'd been out the previous week, but Antonio doubted that Lovino would let them make a habit of being out that late all the time. It was a little on the irresponsible side, after all. But his face still fell as, no matter what time it was, it meant that Lovino had to leave. "Aw. Do you really have to go?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Yes, idiot. I live in my house, which is not here, so at some point I'm going to have to go there. I don't fancy sleeping in the road."

"You'd get hit by cars," Antonio agreed. "Can I walk you home?" He wasn't intending to ask the question, but that was what boyfriends did, after all, and it was a great way of prolonging Lovino leaving, which was always a bonus. Meanwhile, the back of his mind was wanting to pull Lovino into a hug, as he had the grip on his hands that could start it, but he was afraid that it would damage his chances of walking Lovino home.

"Nah, you don't need to bother," Lovino shrugged.

"No, I want to!" Antonio protested, entwining his fingers in Lovino's and smiling hopefully at him. He knew vaguely where Lovino lived, from odd bits of conversation earlier, but it'd be nice to know exactly where, and it was a bit weird to directly ask for the address now, out of the blue.

Lovino sighed and rolled his eyes in that endearing way he had. "Fine. It's your time you're wasting. C'mon then." Without bothering to remove his captured hand from Antonio's grip, he turned around and set off up the street, Antonio happily following behind. Not only was he about to find out where Lovino lived and he had a bit extra time with him, they'd been – and still were – holding hands. Antonio knew the gesture didn't sit well with Lovino in public, so he certainly wasn't going to complain – or point out – that it was happening.

About twenty minutes later, the two had passed out of the part of town that Antonio knew, and were into a different area of suburbs, a slightly grander area on the other side of town to where he lived. Houses nearby had tall gates and long front gardens, as if designed to put off unwanted visitors. There were fewer cars on the road, despite the fact that it was a main thoroughfare, and the whole place seemed quite quiet and peaceful. It was hard to see in the dark, but from the pleasant smell in the air it seemed that several of them had very extensive gardens. Antonio made a mental note to come see Lovino during the daytime so that he could walk up here and see what it was like in the sunlight. If he could remember the way, that was. There had been a few too many turns for his liking, and he was getting slightly disorientated. He'd be able to find his way back home, of course, but the way back up here was another matter.

Lovino turned abruptly partway down the street, pulling a surprised Antonio –who still hadn't let go of his hand– with him. A thin tarmac path led between two hedges, wandering around towards a building, perhaps six storeys high – slightly taller than the ones around it – with narrow wooden panels separating areas of plaster between the windows. The path came out at the back of a car park, with assorted vehicles scattered amongst the ordered spaces. Antonio supposed it was a shortcut, as opposed to walking around to the front entrance, which turned out to be around the other side of the building as they circumvented the outside of the ground floor.

The light in the lobby was on, illuminating a white-wallpapered room with a shiny wooden floor and varnished wooden panelling, with a blue-carpeted staircase winding upwards from the corner. A few chairs sat around a table on the room's other side, next to a dozen shiny mail-slots inserted into the wall. Between these were a pair of tall metal doors that Antonio presumed belonged to a lift, but it had a bent yellow 'out of order' sign pinned over its buttons and a small warning cone squatted in front of the doors.

"Some bastard broke the stupid thing on Tuesday," Lovino informed him, having spotted what he was looking at. "Gotta take the stairs 'till the landlord gets off his arse and repairs it. C'mon." Without waiting for a reply he took off towards the staircase, Antonio behind him, chatting happily while keeping one eye on his surroundings, examining briefly where Lovino lived. The place looked to be a block of flats, obviously, but slightly more upmarket than the building Antonio lived in. Paintings adorned the walls of every other landing, and the place was clean and brightly lit.

Lovino stopped outside the second flat on the third floor and turned back to face Antonio, silently withdrawing his fingers from their grip. "Well, this is my place. You got your wish."

"_Sí_," Antonio replied happily. "Uh, did you want me to come in, or should I go home now?"

Lovino raised an eyebrow. "You think if I was going to invite you in, I'd have maybe opened the door? Usually helps if you want to go in places."

"Hehe, yeah," Antonio reluctantly agreed, unsure whether he was disappointed or relieved at Lovino not inviting him in. On one hand, he knew well what that meant, and he wouldn't say no – definitely not – but he wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to move that fast. It could easily make things weird if it was the wrong time. Lovino, meanwhile, just shrugged and Antonio remembered that he probably wasn't being deliberately rude; it was just his way.

But Antonio made no move to leave, once again enraptured with the vision he was facing and every fibre of his being was begging him not to leave. The darkened hallway was silent, save for the distant yawn of traffic, and the silver light from the single window drenched Lovino in its magic, almost giving him an aura and making his eyes sparkle like medals. Medals that he was close to winning.

He stepped forward and pulled Lovino into a hug, earning him a startled squawk from the younger as he did so. Antonio nuzzled Lovino's neck with his nose, appreciating his warmth, taking in his beautiful, unique, enrapturing scent of cologne and tomatoes, never wanting to let go. He almost felt frozen and light-headed, like everything was still so unreal. In moments like this, he couldn't believe that he'd almost been convinced by Gilbert's words. There was no way that this was a lie.

"See you soon, _mi Lovinito_," he breathed softly in Lovino's ear, letting the words ghost over the Italian's skin before pulling back slightly so that they were face to face. The air was almost electric, and Antonio couldn't resist crashing his lips onto Lovino's own, succumbing to the longing that he'd been repressing hard all evening. Ever since Wednesday, he'd wanted to feel Lovino close, have their lips pressed together, taste that alluring flavour that was Lovino; like tomatoes and spices, yet with something more that was unidentifiable – the essence of Lovino, if you will. He could almost swear that he was addicted. It certainly was irresistible.

He felt Lovino kiss back, and his brain quickly melted to putty, with all his senses focused only on this moment. With a tentative burst of courage, he moved his lips slightly more, and felt a jolt of heat rush through him as Lovino responded in kind, linking his arms around Antonio's waist and pulling him closer. Unable to hold back, Antonio locked his own arms around Lovino's back and kissed him ever more fervently.

Lovino opened his mouth and pinned his lips hard against Antonio's. His tongue slipped into Antonio's mouth, enticing the other into a fevered dance of passion. Antonio wasn't even sure where they were anymore, and he certainly didn't care. He could have gone to hell and back and still been as elated as he was now. His breath came short and hot, further adding to the surreality of the moment.

He slid one hand up Lovino's back and buried it in his hair, plunging his tongue further into Lovino's mouth as they pressed closer. A soft moan escaped his companion, a hot, involuntary sound that sent shivers up Antonio's spine and turned his nerves to fire. Encouraged by the tantalising and approving noise, Antonio gently leant forward, causing Lovino to step backwards to avoid falling over and he softly collided with the wall behind him. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, and Lovino didn't even seem bothered by it, which had been exactly what Antonio had been going for. He continued his amorous battle, their kisses getting hungrier and less accurate by the minute as he quickly closed the gap that had accidentally opened up between their bodies, pushing them both close to the wall.

Lovino's hand released from its hold around his waist and trailed up Antonio's side, wandering over to his torso and resting on his chest, fingers dangerously close to the buttons, the buttons that suddenly seemed so _in the way_. Antonio was just about to move further, wondering how far things were going now, when Lovino abruptly broke off and took his hand away, much to Antonio's disappointment.

The Italian cleared his throat awkwardly, face tinged crimson as he drew a dazed breath. "Ah…Yeah. Don't want to go too fast, right?"

Antonio shrugged, still breathless and reeling from the kiss. He was rather dismayed that it had ended, but decided to keep it to himself – he didn't want to push Lovino harder than he wanted. "I don't mind, really. Not when it's you, at any rate, Lovi. But ok. I guess I'll see you later this week?"

"Sure, whatever," Lovino shrugged, his shirt riding up slightly as it caught on the wall. "Uh, jerk. You have to let me off the wall first."

"Oh, sorry." Antonio's brain wasn't quite up to processing reality just yet, and he didn't really want to move anywhere. But, since they were so close, he took the opportunity to steal one last sweet kiss from Lovino before they parted and he stepped away. "I'll call you, yeah?"

A still-flushed Lovino replied, "If you want. I'll see you later then." He pushed himself off from where he was balanced against the wall and took a pace sideways, towards the crimson-painted door to his left, with one hand fishing in his pockets for his keys.

Antonio smiled, if it was possible to increase the smile that was already on his face. "Bye-bye, Lovi. Have a good night." He began to head for the stairs behind him, but didn't take his eyes off Lovino and only turned around when the door had clicked shut, concealing his boyfriend from view. If it wasn't for the images and sensations ingrained firmly into his brain, he would have sworn that the last ten minutes or so had just been a product of his imagination – it had just been that dreamlike.

The giant smile kept up its habitation on his face for his journey down the stairs, and the entire way back home as well.

* * *

Well, it seems like a reassured Antonio is getting some action! ;) But this is almost the last of the fluffiness. Serious things are to be happening in a bit.


	5. The Deceiver

A swift beeping cut through the warm morning air, effectively shattering its tranquility with minimal effort. The face of the alarm clock that was emitting the noise flickered 06:45 in harsh unrelenting red letters. A few seconds later, it was silenced by a haphazard swipe flat down on the snooze button, but the damage was done and the tousled-haired figure in the bed thoroughly disturbed.

Annoyed at being woken so early, especially seeing how it was the hell-spawn known as Monday morning, Lovino stuck his head under the pillow and curled up again. He was rather reluctant to leave his warm cocoon. It was so comfortable under the blankets, and he would much rather stay in bed all day than go to work. Work always required effort, and Lovino could never be bothered with any of it. If it wasn't for the substantial pay cheque, he probably would have quit some time ago. Well, that and he couldn't face telling Feliciano that he was leaving. His _fratellino _would be devastated at that. The two brothers had set up their catering business a few years ago, and it had quickly become a success. However, most of the actual catering part had somehow become Feliciano's job, and all the administration work had been left to the ever-so-slightly more competent Lovino, who could handle working with the numbers, even if he didn't enjoy it. He could just about stand the eight-hour workday, but it usually left him grouchy and irritable, with his eyes aching after staring at endless words and numbers all day long. Not that he didn't spend most of the time being annoyed at something in the first place. It was just his natural state of mind.

All too soon, the beeping shook the air once more, and with a grumbled curse, Lovino shut the alarm off and swung his legs out of bed. He couldn't really postpone the inevitable any further. With a yawn, he stood up and stumbled across to his ensuite bathroom, narrowly avoiding tripping over a discarded pair of jeans that he'd thrown on the floor the night before. He tended to avoid cleaning up as much as he could. It wasn't that he liked the mess; more that he was too lazy to do anything about it unless he had an important reason, like company coming over, for example.

He pulled the bathroom door shut, stripped off the tank top and boxer shorts he'd slept in, and twisted the dials on the shower, hoping the cascading rhythm of warm water would wake him up a bit. Normally a cold shower would be best for waking someone up, but Lovino despised cold showers with a passion akin to a roaring fire. He was not a cold-loving person, especially when it was harsh, unwelcoming, and first thing on a Monday. Evil things, Mondays, in Lovino's opinion at least.

Thankfully, the water was a soothing escape and he began massaging shampoo into his scalp, allowing his mind to wander away from the day ahead of him. And, after a few minutes, it landed square on Antonio. The cheerful, friendly Spaniard, owner of sparkling emerald eyes and dispenser of unexpected hugs and whole-hearted compliments. A man who had no idea of what he had got himself into when he had started talking to Lovino at the bar in _Le Onde_. And it wasn't good, not for Antonio at least.

_Ah, Antonio._ The guy had been blatantly attracted to him from the very beginning, and Lovino had noticed that within moments. He may have come up to Lovino with the intention of innocent friendship, but there was little or no innocence in their relationship now. Not in the slightest. Saturday had pushed the boundaries ever-so-slightly further, and, at a guess, it wouldn't be long before they were breached again. Not that Lovino minded too much about that. Antonio was a good-looking guy, and Lovino had a few suspicions about how time would be spent with him, if their relationship was given a few weeks. But Lovino had to laugh, though. Antonio had gotten so jealous when he'd flirted with that waitress the other day. The guy looked like he'd been about to start flipping tables. Which had been precisely why Lovino had carried on, even though she'd never been anything to him, and he'd only flirted out of habit. It wasn't even as if she'd been there for a long time – it had been a couple of veiled compliments and a flirtatious wink. And yet the Spaniard had practically been dancing when she left. Lovino had found it hilarious, and had had trouble not laughing at the time. It never got old, playing with people like this. His game.

It had started out as an experiment, his little game, something he accidentally discovered near the end of high school. He'd been dating this girl for a few months, but felt nothing for her, and so had promptly ended their relationship, seeing little point in wasting his time if it was going nowhere. Little did he know at the time, she'd been madly in love with him, hoping for an entire future together, and his rejection had broken her heart. Lovino had been rather surprised by this, but found it rather interesting how a few words could manipulate a person through the entire spectrum of emotion. So, in a test, just as a way to kill a few evenings, he went to a bar and turned on the full power of his secret Italian charm. Within an evening of flirting, veiled compliments and false charisma, the girl had been putty in his hands. After several dates, he broke up with her, just to see if the first time had just been the result of an obsessive girl, but the result was the same. Desolate girl, and apathetic Lovino walking away from it without a regretful thought. It was fascinating to him.

With that, the teenager began a cycle. Find someone, or let someone come to him, whichever it may be, date them for a while, let them fall in love with him, show them how false their delusions of love were, and repeat.

And so his reputation had developed. Lovino The Heartbreaker, they called him. He'd lost count of how many had fallen victim to his ways over the years, if he'd even been counting in the first place. To be honest, he found it amusing. He broke heart after heart, reducing all to pitiful tears, some to therapy, and even one to suicide – that had been rather unfortunate, he had to admit – yet still they flocked to him like moths to a flame. Often this was due to shallow people looking for an attractive suitor and Lovino's Mediterranean good looks helped greatly with this, but it was partly thanks to a few well-placed rumours; Lovino was on the search for his soulmate, the one, perfect person who would complete him and he would love unconditionally for ever. What seemed like a generous section of the females saw this as a challenge, and would compete relentlessly with each other for Lovino's affection. Of course, there were some who didn't care about that, but Lovino couldn't care less about them.

With clean hair and moisture-laden skin, Lovino shut off the water and stepped out the shower, watching his foggy reflection mimic his movements in the condensation-covered bathroom mirror. Now he was warm and slightly more relaxed, he wrapped a bathrobe around himself and exited the bathroom in search of some breakfast. His footsteps echoed through the empty flat as he made his way towards the kitchen part of the open-plan room.

The rumours, of course, had been started by Lovino himself, and they were all completely fabricated. He wasn't looking for his soulmate. True love was a myth, after all. It was a false concept, an idea sold by corporations to sell their cheap junk and by naïve couples to think they had a future together. Lovino had seen what love could do to people, and it always ended badly. People hurt themselves, wasted their lives and their money, and thought it was all worth it to hug someone else. Lovino thought it was a complete load of bullshit. Love wasn't worth his time, and he certainly wasn't going to get himself hurt by it. If people wanted to inflict pain on themselves, there were much more effective methods of doing so. In his case, if one of his admirers got hurt, it was their fault for chasing him so hard. Lovino wasn't to blame.

Why did he do this? For fun, really. It was an interesting way to kill time, and it taught him a lot of useful things about human nature. People could pretend to be selfless, caring and friendly to each other, but when it came right down to it, everyone was the same. Self-centred, jealous and shallow. Lovino at least kept a reputation that was honest to what he did. Most other people just lived off lies, thinking that they were honourable. Plus, it was highly amusing to see groups of people brawl it out, in either nail-scratching catfights or protective tussles that broke noses, just because he'd said something that could be interpreted two ways.

Partly it was to teach people a lesson: love was an illusion and there was no point in following a small organ from your circulatory system, as it wouldn't get you anywhere useful. Mostly, though, it was a matter of self-protection. If you protected your heart against people, you'd never get hurt, that was Lovino's philosophy. And if every relationship meant nothing to him, he was protected, and his heart stayed intact and his. Many years ago, Lovino had watched his brother fall in love, with a young blue-eyed boy from down the street. He'd been so happy. But, almost as soon as it had begun, the young boy Feliciano had loved left him unexpectedly, and the two had never seen each other since. Feliciano had been devastated, crying for weeks on end and completely inconsolable. And that day, Lovino promised himself that he'd never let that pain happen again. To himself at least, this was. He'd tried to keep Feliciano away from love, but the more he tried to push Ludwig away, the harder Feliciano ran after him, so for the moment he was just settled to insult the guy with everything he had, and hate him with every iota of his being. He got mad just thinking about the guy. But it didn't stop Feliciano, and this really irked the elder sibling.

But, a lot of the time – and he would never tell anyone this – it was about himself. It meant that no one had to know who he really was, save for Feliciano, from whom he couldn't really hide it. They just knew the pretender, and that was the way it was best kept, for better or worse. They didn't need to know Lovino for real. For want of a better way of phrasing it, he was alone. Caged by the very reputation he'd built. Not that he really regretted it. What he'd got worked, even if it wasn't perfect. But he'd never admit that, through it all, despite the company, he couldn't help but feel lonely. Isolated. But he didn't much like thinking about this, and, seeing as how he'd just finished breakfast, he glanced up at the clock.

To his surprise, it was half seven, and Lovino realised he was going to end up running late if he wasn't careful. He abandoned his plate and glass in the sink for him to wash later and dashed into his room to get dressed. From his wardrobe he pulled a sharp grey suit, immaculately pressed, and discarded his bathrobe from his now dry form so he could put it on.

Over the years he'd been doing this, being 'The Heartbreaker', he'd learned the perfect ways to control people, to read their motions and reactions, so that he could adjust his personality so that they would chase him and think the two were a perfect match. He understood the psychology of people so well that he could analyse someone within two or three minutes or meeting them, and would respond accordingly. Some people loved an outright flirt, others were more appreciative of a quiet, shy Lovino, and a few – a rather strange-minded few whom he didn't associate with often – loved it when he treated them like dirt. He could cater for all types, if he put his mind to it.

It had been quite some time, though, since he'd found someone who liked his ordinary personality. Normally when he was interacting with a 'love' interest, or even just a pretty girl, he dispensed with the foul mouth that he normally spoke with, and was nothing but polite and gracious. 'Ordinary' Lovino, as he'd discovered when he was younger, was shy, socially awkward, profane and always seen as second best to someone nicer – namely Feliciano. 'Ordinary' Lovino would never succeed in the world, so he lived behind a contrasting facade when trying to get anywhere. Alone, or with his brother, was the only time when Lovino would truly be himself.

But then along came Antonio, and he was something new. Completely by accident, Lovino was talking to him pretty much as he would talk to a friend – not that he had many of those – or his brother, and still the Spaniard was chasing him, and chasing him hard. Lovino wasn't entirely sure what to make of him. He was effortlessly nice, and made every attempt to make Lovino feel happy. Lovino could swear and snap and insult things, and Antonio would just laugh melodiously and give him one of those annoying hugs. It had been a long time since Lovino knew someone who liked him for who he was, and Antonio was definitely the first to not even mind the constant abuse. It was a mystery to him.

It wasn't very often when he was pursued by a man, either. Sure, he'd dated a few, but they'd met the same fate as their female counterparts, occasionally even faster. In some ways, men weren't as complex emotionally, so Lovino didn't have to think as cryptically. But Lovino didn't tend to get on with other men, and he was rude to the majority of them. They viewed him as a threat, after all, and treated him accordingly. He'd gotten in so many fights because of that. But it didn't matter; if he got slandered or beaten up, it would only attract more people, either with sympathy for him, or annoyance at their friends, brothers or even fathers who'd attacked him. Even if they didn't see him as a threat, Lovino often saw them as worthless figures who matched stereotypes in every way.

That's why Antonio was another exception to the rule. He didn't fit this pattern.

And, to bring the spectrum to completion, he was a risk to Lovino. The more time he spent with him, the closer the Spaniard got to finding that Lovino wasn't all he was cracked up to be. He wasn't polite, he wasn't generous, and he certainly didn't care about anyone who wasn't family. But Antonio seemed to like the true Lovino as well as the suave pretender, and this was a danger. Lovino didn't want to chance the possibility of Antonio breaking down his long-constructed walls and finding the true, insecure and above all lonely person hiding behind them.

Which in turn, was why Lovino was going to take him for a ride; right up to the top, and then plummeting back down the far side without a safety net.

Because it was all just a game to him, nothing more.

* * *

Why is this late? Cos Game of Thrones. It's addictive to read, but it's so different from this that it's hard to transfer between the two. Also, I've for some reason been writing chapters 8 and 11 more than the ones I'm supposed to. Tis fun.

Short chapter, this. But then, it's just Lovino monologue-ing to see the other side, i.e. what Antonio doesn't know. Shit gets real. (maybe)


	6. The Captivator

It wasn't until the following Friday that they were able to meet again, much to Antonio's disappointment. He'd deliberately kept all his evenings clear so he could meet up with Lovino at a moment's notice, but Lovino had said something about having a lot of work to do, and wasn't free until the weekend. Antonio was pretty sure that Friday evening counted as part of the weekend, and had quickly suggested that they do something then. He was even more eager to meet Lovino than usual at the moment; he had a little surprise for him. Admittedly, he was a little nervous about the surprise, but he was more excited than nervous, as he tried his best not to worry about things. And the prospect of seeing Lovino was much more exciting than nervous. In the back of his mind, he reckoned he shouldn't really be this psyched about it – it was technically only their third date, after all – but he didn't really care. Three was only a number, and numbers had never been his forte.

He'd suggested they go down to the beach that evening, as something a bit more relaxed since Lovino had had to work a lot. He wasn't sure what Lovino thought about it – it wasn't the most exciting place for someone who'd lived nearby for years – but the city-born Antonio had yet to get over the novelty of sand, sea and, sometimes, sun. He'd been twice already since he moved, and loved the place, but he hadn't gone there with Lovino, so it was a good excuse to go again.

It had been late evening when Lovino, dressed slightly more casually that previous times in stonewashed jeans and a short-sleeved black shirt, had met him at the top of the grassy dunes that were at the top of the beach. There was a more classic gates-and-fences setup around the other end, nearer to the cliffs, but this end was usually the quieter one. The start of it was threaded with little paths through sandy mounds, dotted with sharp-edged wild grasses. It was slightly harder to get to, as it wasn't accessible by road, but definitely worth the walk, as the area was tranquil and – more often than not – empty of other people as it was further from the town. For an evening's date, it was perfect.

The two walked side by side, although not hand in hand, much to Antonio's disappointment. It was about a hundred metres to the sea by his guess, as the tide was most of the way out. The sand was soft, but completely dry until you got about thirty metres away from the water, when it turned into that perfect moist consistency that could be worked into castles. Antonio wasn't intending on making castles now, but he wouldn't mind if the idea got brought up. Then he could be the king of the castle, and rule his sandy domain with his precious Lovino by his side until the sea brought their palace crashing down, the dream was over and reality returned again.

Wow that sounded sappy. Antonio smiled to himself as he walked, but since he had been smiling already, it was hard to tell the difference. He rather wished he could transfer a bit of his smile to Lovino, though, as the Italian was still wearing his normal scowl. He still had to get Lovino to smile properly, but it wasn't a challenge he was denying. Behind the tough outer skin was something softer, this he could tell, even if it was well-hidden. There was a way to get him to smile, he knew it, and he was going to find it sooner or later. It was his duty as a boyfriend, after all.

They paused about fifteen metres from the water, where the sand was getting to that stage where it was just beginning to suck at their feet if they stood still long enough. Across the blue expanse of water, the sun was hanging orange and glowing, seeming to be only about a few inches above the waves and slowly dipping down. The clouds around it were beginning to develop shades of pink and gold in their peaks and shadows, all a promise of a beautiful sunset.

"It's peaceful here, isn't it," Antonio remarked happily, slipping one hand into Lovino's.

Lovino just shrugged. "Guess so. Don't really notice it nowadays."

"Mmm. I've not been here in the evening before, mainly during the day or late afternoon. There's fewer people about now."

"That's 'cos all those idiot-ass tourists have left 'bout this time," Lovino pointed out bluntly, his distaste obvious.

"Aw, that's not nice, Lovi. Tourists are good! I'm sure you've been a tourist before."

Lovino shook his head, briefly sticking out his tongue. "Nah. I'm a _cultured_ _visitor_, I am, if I go other places. Tourists are just loud and obnoxious. Downside to a seaside town is you get influxed with the bastards every summer, queueing up around every damn thing, getting in the way, and dragging their annoying kids all over the sand and into the sea."

This last comment was highly distracting to the previously protesting Spaniard. "Ooh, I wanna go in the sea!" Antonio cried suddenly, his mindset now completely changed and defence of the tourists forgotten. Before Lovino had a chance to react, he kicked off his shoes, roughly rolled his trousers up to knee-level and ran towards the waves. The damp sand squished between his toes and splashed up his legs as he ran, but he didn't care. He was quite glad that the water wasn't completely freezing – it had been sometimes. Droplets leapt into the air as he hit the sea, glinting in the orange evening light, as waves lapped around his feet. Antonio stopped, realising that he was alone in his antics, and turned back to wave excitedly at Lovino. "C'mon in, Lovi! It's fun!"

Lovino gave him an odd look, halfway between amusement and derision, and didn't move any closer to the water. "You're such a child."

"Hey, who wants to be serious all the time?" Antonio laughed, happily splashing around in the cool calf-deep water. "It's so much more fun if you just chill with life~. Kids seem so much happier than adults, and it's probably because they're just concerned with having fun, instead of work and stressful things like that. C'mon, Lovi! Come in!"

"I don't think so," Lovino replied, the look on his face now complete disbelief and his arms folded across his chest. "I did enough capering about in the sea when I was a kid. Besides, my wallet and phone'll get wet if I go in the sea, damn it."

Antonio jumped, remembering that electronics and water didn't like each other. "Ooh, good point." He immediately ran out of the water and back over to his boyfriend, hands digging in his pockets for his stuff. "Oh, but they'll get all sandy if I put them here…" He pouted slightly for a second or two, before his brain came up with a handy solution. "I know!' He pulled off his t-shirt and lay it on the sand, before emptying the contents of his pockets onto the material, making sure to keep his surprise covered up by a sleeve and away from Lovino's gaze. "All safe now! You can put your stuff on there too, Lovi, so you can come in the water now."

To Antonio's surprise, Lovino didn't reply; he turned around from his makeshift blanket to find Lovino staring at him, golden eyes wide and expression completely unreadable. Antonio peered at him for a second, before noticing that Lovino's eyes weren't exactly directed at his face; more rather, they were focused where his shirt had previously been. Antonio giggled and raised his eyebrows at Lovino, straightening up to give him a better view. "Like what you see, Lovi?"

Lovino started, and his eyes immediately flicked elsewhere as his face flushed pink. "Shut up, you bastard! I was _not_ staring at you. Well, I was, but it was in disbelief that you were being so stupid! Not because you are in any way good-looking. 'Cos you're not!"

"Aww!" With this, Antonio gave in completely to the urge to hug Lovino – again. He could tell Lovino was just in denial, and he found it absolutely adorable. "So cute, _mi tomate_!"

Lovino growled, trying and failing to break free of the affectionate hug. "I'm not cute, I'm not a fucking tomato, and I swear to God if you hug me one more time I'm going to chuck you in the sea!"

"You don't need to throw me in the sea, Lovi," Antonio smiled, holding Lovino at arm's length but refusing to let go completely. "I'm just going back in there. You too, c'mon!" He took Lovino's hand and gently but insistently led him towards the water.

Lovino tugged his hand back and tried to dig his heels into the sand, to little effect beside creating twin tracks behind him. "Bastard! My stuff!"

Antonio laughed apologetically. "Oh, sorry, Lovi." Reluctantly, he let Lovino's hand go, giving the Italian time to return to their previous location. No sooner had Lovino dropped his phone, wallet and keys onto Antonio's discarded shirt and rolled up his trousers than Antonio cried out, "Now sea!" and dragged him back towards the waves. Lovino was growling and muttering profanities, but Antonio knew he didn't mean a word of it; he just was too reserved to admit to wanting to have fun. Well, he was just going to have to change that then, wasn't he?

Once they were a few feet out, so the water came about halfway between their ankles and knees, Antonio stopped and let Lovino's hand go. Waves crashed gently into their bare legs, the water tinted orange and yellow by the sunset. The sand seemed adamant on burying Antonio's feet, and he kept having to move them to prevent himself from sinking a couple of centimetres.

Lovino just stood in the water a few feet away with his arms folded, scowling. Antonio glanced at him, wondering why he wasn't joining in even though he was in the sea now. Perhaps he just needed a bit of encouragement. "C'mon, Lovi~!" he chirped happily, sticking his hands into the water, before bringing them up and lightly spraying Lovino with salty droplets.

Lovino jumped back with an incredulous expression as the splash hit him. It quickly reverted into a scowl as he brushed the drops of seawater off his face. Evidently the splash attack, small as it was, had surprised him. "You tomato bastard!" Lovino snapped. "The fuck did you do that for? This shirt's expensive, you know!" The aforementioned shirt was stuck to him slightly in the odd places it was now damp.

Antonio laughed. "You were looking lost, just standing there, so I decided to splash you. You look cute when you're damp."

Lovino glared. "Shut up, bastard." He quickly bent down and cupped both hands together, before sending a wave crashing towards Antonio, who tried to duck, but the water got him first, mostly on his head. Salty water ran out of his brown hair and down his face, millimetres away from his eyes, and he quickly brushed it away. He was rather relieved he wasn't wearing a shirt now, as it would have got rather wet.

Lovino smirked at him and re-folded his arms. "Gotcha. I believe I win this round. Now we can get out." Before Antonio had a chance to protest, Lovino turned around and slowly began walking back, scowling at the state of his sandy feet.

But Antonio had another trick up his sleeve – he wasn't going to let Lovino get away so quickly without having a bit of fun. He was trying to get the Italian to loosen up a bit, after all. As Lovino was walking away, Antonio cupped both hands in the water, snuck up behind his companion and emptied their contents on top of his head. Lovino gasped as the cold liquid splashed over him, dousing the shoulders of his shirt and flattening his dark hair to his scalp, save for that one rebellious curl.

Lovino's eyes flashed as he turned back around and glared, and for a second Antonio thought he'd screwed things up entirely, but he quickly caught Lovino's expression, and realised he'd unwittingly issued a challenge for Lovino to accept. "You are so. Fucking. Dead," Lovino growled at him. The surprised Antonio had about half a second to step back and cover his face with one hand before he was hit with a relentless torrent of water. A childhood spent by the beach with a younger sibling had obviously left Lovino with a potent splashing technique, and the barrage on Antonio was incessant, quickly soaking his bare chest and splashing his rolled-up jeans.

A different noise encountered Antonio's ears, and he opened his eyes to find that Lovino was laughing triumphantly as he splashed, face fixed with a wicked grin. It was the closest thing to a genuine smile that Antonio had seen on Lovino's face, and only the second time that he'd heard Lovino laugh. It was a beautiful sound, so melodic, although at the moment there was a tinge of malice in the tone as Lovino exacted his revenge.

Instead of fighting back, Antonio just found himself standing transfixed, eyes caught irremovably on Lovino's face. He'd never seen such a look on Lovino before, so genuine, so happy. It was like he'd broken through a shell and found a part of Lovino that he didn't like to show to anyone else much, and Antonio felt so privileged to have seen it. He was truly laughing, and it was beautiful. Antonio knew he'd be proven right sooner or later that Lovino had a brighter side, but he'd never have guessed that it'd be so soon. A few seconds later, Lovino caught Antonio's adoring expression and faltered, realising what he'd done, and his characteristic scowl quickly returned to his face, accompanied by a faint red tinge. He withdrew his hands from the water and straightened up, and Antonio knew – again, to his disappointment – that the moment was over.

"Dumbass," Lovino muttered, brushing salty droplets off his face from where he'd been caught by the splashback. "We're gonna get all wet if you keep screwing about like this, and I'll be damned if I'm walking home soaked. "We're getting out the sea now. And you can put your goddamn shirt back on." He grabbed Antonio's hand and pulled him insistently out of the water.

"Aw," Antonio pouted. He wasn't really done playing yet, and he rather wanted to continue. He'd just seen another side to Lovino that he'd not seen before, a side which was bright and refreshing, not to mention endearing. For some reason, Lovino didn't want to let that side shine. Did he not like it? Was he ashamed for some reason? Antonio briefly flirted with the idea of asking Lovino about it, but guessed that he'd just get snapped at. Instead, he made it another item on his mental to-do list – get Lovino to come out of his shell more often, to try relax and have fun. He wanted to see more of happy-Lovino, even if that didn't occur all that often. For some strange reason, Antonio had a feeling that it didn't, and that made him rather sad. He was definitely going to do something about that.

Reluctantly, he followed Lovino as he made his way out of the water and back towards where Antonio had discarded his shirt. Sand clung to his damp feet, sticking between his toes and up his calves, with more of the dryer sand joining it as he walked. It wasn't uncomfortable, per se, but it itched slightly and Antonio resisted the urge to sit down and attack his feet with his fingers until they felt better. He heard Lovino mutter something about 'bringing a fucking towel' as he checked his smartphone before pocketing it. Antonio frowned, thinking too that he probably should have brought a towel, seeing as how they'd gone to the beach, but he hadn't thought that they would go in the sea. Nevertheless, it didn't really matter now.

Lovino was glaring at his shoes, obviously reluctant to put them on. "This is all your fault, you know. Now my shoes are going to get covered in sand as soon as I put my feet in them." He was attempting in vain to brush the sand off his feet, but the dampness of his hands and legs was severely hindering his progress.

Antonio smiled fondly and took Lovino's hands, brushing the sand off them with his shirt, which he'd just retrieved from the ground, along with his pocket contents. He'd decided to keep the shirt off for the time being, so his chest could have the chance to dry off a bit. Lovino had got it quite damp. "How about we wait a bit, huh? It's still fairly early, so we can let our feet dry naturally, and then the sand just falls off by itself!"

"Whatever," Lovino shrugged.

"Yay!" Antonio stuck enough of his shirt in his pocket so that it would stay there, but left most of it hanging out as it didn't fit. The two wandered a bit closer to the sea, just watching the sun begin to dip lower. It wasn't quite sunset yet, but it was still a beautifully peaceful atmosphere.

Abruptly, Lovino picked up a pebble and stared intently at the sea. Antonio followed his gaze, wondering what was so interesting. There didn't look to be anything out there.

Suddenly, Lovino swung his arm and sent the pebble flying towards the sea. Twenty feet out, it hit the water, but instead of sinking with a splash, it bounced across the surface twice before hitting a wave and disappearing into the foam.

Antonio couldn't help but gape. He'd never seen rocks do anything but sink before, yet Lovino was almost getting them to fly. If it wasn't for the waves, he reckoned the stone would have kept going all the way to Greece, or wherever was on the other side of the sea. It was mystifying. "Lovi…how'd you do that?"

Lovino raised an eyebrow curiously. "It's just skipping stones, bastard. Haven't you ever seen it before?"

Suddenly, things were a little clearer. "Ohh, is that what stone skipping is? I'd heard of it, but I didn't know what it was. It's pretty cool~." Wanting to try it for himself, Antonio snatched a stone off the ground and launched it at the waves. It sank, well, like a stone, and his face fell. But, not one to be deterred for long, Antonio picked up another stone and tried again, only to achieve exactly the same results.

He stared at the water curiously, then transferred the gaze to Lovino, who was wearing an amused smirk. "You're magic, Lovi! How'd you get them to do that? Mine just keep sinking."

Lovino laughed. "That's 'cos you're an idiot. You're throwing them all wrong, for one thing. And for another, you've got the wrong sort of pebble."

Antonio screwed up his face, confused. "The wrong sort? Pebbles are pebbles, right?"

"Not in this. It's fairly important, although not imperative." Lovino bent down and scanned the floor, then picked up a couple of pebbles. He extended his right hand, showing Antonio the irregular-shaped lump on his palm. "You see this one? Can't skim well with that, no matter how much you try. You want one more like this." He dropped the inadequate pebble and replaced it with the second, a slightly smaller one which was rounded into a smooth circle. "These work much better, see?" He swung his arm again and sent the pebble flying out to sea. This time it completed three skips before the waves claimed it for their own. Antonio burst into appreciative applause.

Lovino, ignoring the praise, picked up another pebble and handed it to Antonio. "Now you try."

Antonio eagerly nodded and launched the pebble out towards the waves before Lovino could say another word, where it created a satisfying _sploosh _and sent water flying up, but again performed no skips.

"You've got it wrong again, damn it," Lovino complained. "Don't just lob it. Here." He handed Antonio another stone, but pushed Antonio's fingers around it to prevent him from throwing it prematurely. Then, standing behind Antonio, he turned the Spaniard's shoulders slightly, so his stance was slightly slanted. Antonio supposed that gave him better posture for throwing, but all he could think about was Lovino's body pressed behind his, especially as he still wasn't wearing a shirt, and all the heat rushed south as Lovino's hands cupped his waist and opposite arm.

"Oi!" Lovino shouted in his ear. "Stop zoning out, damn it! Jeez. Anyway, as I was saying, you want to throw it so it lands parallel with the surface of the water. That way it wants to move forwards, not down so it sinks."

"What's parallel?" Antonio asked. He'd vaguely heard of the term, but it had a strange quality to it that reminded him of high-school maths classes, and that didn't bode well. He didn't like maths.

Lovino rolled his eyes. "In this instance, let's just say it means 'on the same level with'. You know, if the sea's like that-" he held one arm horizontally in front of him "-you want the pebble to travel so it lands like that-" he held his other arm above it. "-on top of the sea. Got it yet?"

"Think so," Antonio nodded.

"Bout fucking time," Lovino muttered. "Ok, have a go before I get bored of teaching your ass."

"You can teach my ass any time you like," Antonio quipped happily, continuing before the scarlet-faced Lovino could respond negatively. "So, like this?" He held his arm as if he was just about to throw the pebble.

Lovino nodded, and Antonio threw the stone. It flew a bit faster than before, and a lot flatter, but again it failed to bounce across the water. Antonio turned to Lovino with wide, unsure eyes. "Why didn't it work? Did I not do it right?"

"Well of course not," Lovino scoffed. "It didn't work." But upon seeing Antonio's devastated expression he reversed his tone slightly. "But it does take a bit of time and practice to get used to it, so don't worry. Just keep trying and maybe you won't suck quite so hard."

Antonio nodded determinedly and dropped to his knees to find some more suitable pebbles. "Right you are, Lovi~. Now I need to find some of those smooth stones you were talking about!"

XxxxX

And yet, all too soon, their evening was over, and Antonio was stood outside the door to Lovino's flat once again, his hands entwined with Lovino's. The lights were on in the hallway, unlike last time, which made sight a lot easier, but Antonio thought Lovino looked so much better in the moonlight's silver caress than in harsh artificial light. Not that there was much to improve on in his opinion.

He couldn't deny it had been an amazing evening, but then Lovino's record of making those was unbroken so far. It had taken a while, but he'd managed to get the hang of skimming stones, although he'd never got them to make more than two skips before sinking. Lovino, on the other hand, had relished the chance for more practice and got one up to five skips when the waves were chanced to be calm. He said it worked better in calm water, like a lake, than in the turbulent sea, but there weren't any lakes in the area. Antonio hadn't minded, though, and had decided that Lovino was a really good teacher – he didn't usually learn something new in one go, unless it was some form of guitar playing, dancing, or gardening. The sunset had proved itself to be beautiful as well, ranging hundreds of colours in the most peaceful of atmospheres. The two had stayed out, mostly chatting, until they had to strain their eyes to see what sort of rocks were which, then had to head back to find somewhere with decent lighting. Which had turned out to be Lovino's apartment building again, as it was the closer of the two, but it wasn't as if Antonio minded about that.

They were both now properly dry; enough time had passed to ensure that, and the crimson-dusted Lovino had immediately insisted that Antonio put his shirt back on. Antonio had complied, but only after informing Lovino how cute he was when he was embarrassed. The Italian never seemed to believe him on that front, only scowl and spit false curses. Adorable.

Lovino was leant against his front door, scowling as per usual. Antonio liked to think that this scowl came about as a result of Lovino not wanting him to leave. It was wishful thinking, to be sure, but it was a nice thought all the same.

"Did you have a nice time, Lovi?" Antonio asked him, partly in an effort to not leave so early. It was only about ten in the evening, something like that. It wasn't that late, certainly as it was a weekend.

Lovino shrugged in his usual apathy. "Didn't completely suck, even if you did insist on trying to get me wet."

"You look cute when you're damp, Lovi," Antonio laughed quietly. "I mean, more so than normal."

"I'm not cute, _stronzo_," Lovino growled back at him. "Stop thinking so already."

"But you don't believe me yet," Antonio pouted back at him. "I'll only stop when you see you the way that I do. The way that you really are."

Lovino was staring at his shoes now, the visible part of his face blushing scarlet. "…hmph…need to get your…fucking eyes tested then," he mumbled indistinctly in the direction of the floor.

"Aww~!" Antonio stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Lovino, nuzzling the top of his head with his nose. He'd quickly discovered that Lovino may like to hide behind indifference and charm, but if you had chance to get around his walls and embarrass him, he was beyond adorable, with his tomato-tinted blushing face and mumbled not-insults. Antonio could hug him all day, given the opportunity. Not that Lovino was likely to let him have that opportunity, mind.

Lovino was muttering something into his shoulder, which probably wasn't complimentary, but Antonio knew he didn't mean it if it was. It was just his way of showing affection to him. Like how he called him 'tomato bastard'. It wasn't an insult; more of an unusual pet name. And Antonio didn't mind. He was glad that Lovino had taken time to differentiate him from everyone else, to give him a nickname. Even if it was a little bit out of the ordinary.

"Let go," came Lovino's muffled voice from the vicinity of Antonio's chest. Antonio pouted slightly, but released him. Lovino pulled free, taking gasps of air that had to be at least slightly exaggerated. "Damn it, jerk, you keep doing that. Are you _trying_ to kill me?"

"Nooo! Of course not! I couldn't bear to kill you, Lovi! You're too important to kill."

"Hmph." It was obvious that Lovino disagreed, or at least was pretending to, and he folded his arms, his expression back to a scowl. "Well, I can't breath in those things, damn it! You keep giving me a fuckton of hugs and won't let up!"

"Oh! That reminds me." Antonio gasped, fingers digging into the pocket of his trousers to locate the little box he'd secreted in there earlier that evening. He wasn't quite sure how he'd been reminded of it, though; it had just reappeared in his mind. "I have something for you, Lovi. Here."

He pressed the red box into Lovino's palm, smiling hopefully, yet tentatively. He'd spent quite some time at the shop a few days ago, trying to choose something, and he really hoped that Lovino would like it.

Lovino frowned slightly as he stared at the box sat on his hand. "The hell, bastard? I didn't ask you to get me a present."

"You didn't have to," Antonio replied. "Go on, open it."

Raising a disbelieving eyebrow, Lovino took the lid off the top. Nestled in the shredded tissue paper inside was a simple silver chain, its links threaded through a golden ring with tiny patterns etched around its rim.

"Eh?" Lovino exclaimed, the chain dangling from his slim fingers as he took it out the box. "What's this for?"

"Being you." Antonio smiled simply, raising his hand and softly tracing his fingers around the edge of Lovino's jaw. "I wanted to get you something, something you could keep and wear. So I had a look around, and decided this."

"Bastard," Lovino scowled. "You don't need to get me stuff."

"I wanted to though," replied Antonio happily. "Although I have to say, you're worth more than any present I could give."

Lovino's face involuntarily reddened. Avoiding Antonio's eyes, he pocketed the empty box and slowly, almost embarrassedly, clipped the chain around the back of his neck. The ring dangled loosely off the silver links, glinting brilliantly against the black of his shirt. He muttered something under his breath as he dropped both his hands back to his sides. Antonio couldn't tell what he said, but what he could tell was that there was neither malice nor annoyance in the sentiment, and he was pleased for that.

Antonio smiled. "I'm glad you like it, Lovi." He reached out a hand and took both of Lovino's hands in his own, staring happily into Lovino's eyes. They never seemed to stay the same colour. Out at the beach earlier, they'd been a shade of golden-brown slightly darker than the ring he'd just received, but now they had a touch more green to them, like a leaf in a sunset. It was fascinating, almost hypnotic, the way they changed like that. Just like last time, the two were stood outside Lovino's apartment door, neither wanting to be the one to move first. Antonio half wished Lovino didn't do that to him, as it was making leaving so much harder than it already was, but it did show that Lovino liked him as much as he liked Lovino, which sent a warm, fuzzy feeling of fulfilment through Antonio's chest.

Once again, though, Antonio felt he had to be the one to move first, or the two might be condemned to reluctant silence for eternity. "Well, I guess I ought to go now, Lovi. It's getting kinda late," Antonio smiled, quietly, motionlessly, rubbing his thumb across the back of Lovino's hands, refusing to let go. He wasn't really wanting to leave, especially without a goodbye like last time.

Lovino sighed. "Dumbass," he muttered, evidently knowing exactly what Antonio was waiting for. He leant forward and gently pressed his lips to Antonio's. It was only meant to be quick and innocent, but Antonio hummed happily and deepened the kiss before Lovino could pull away, dropping his hands to Lovino's waist and pulling him in close. Lovino didn't protest; after a few moments, he slid his arms under Antonio's and traced his fingers down his back. It was exactly what Antonio had been hoping for, what he needed, and passion raced through him like an electric shock.

It was easily as intense as last time had been, with tongues alternately battling and entwining as their hands began to wander. Antonio was already beginning to feel warm, although whether that was from the kiss or their combined body heats he didn't know. What he did know was, that he never wanted it to stop. Being pressed up against Lovino just felt so _right_. Intense, passionate and exhilarating all at once. Eager for more, Antonio pulled the back of Lovino's shirt out of his trousers and slid his hand up the Italian's toned back. His skin was soft and flawless to the touch, and Antonio's fingers tingled, revelling at the contact.

Suddenly, Lovino broke away, gasping slightly, and for a moment Antonio thought he'd accidentally gone too far. But Lovino was already scrabbling around in his pocket, drawing out a set of keys with an Italian flag keyring on them, and his other hand hadn't left Antonio's side. "Hang on. Door," he panted, not bothering with full sentences. Antonio was more than happy to let him free for a few seconds. As long as it didn't take too long. He was breathless and dazed, and filled with a longing that only Lovino could satisfy.

Within a few seconds, the door was open, and Antonio followed Lovino inside, catching a brief glimpse of a well-decorated apartment before the door behind them slammed and the two locked lips once more. The force nearly knocked the two over, being saved from falling only by chaotically placed feet. Antonio wouldn't have cared if they had fallen, though. It would have just pressed them closer, up against the floor in a tumbling passionate singularity. They continued kissing as they slowly moved across Lovino's apartment, both letting out the occasional soft moan. Lovino's fingers fumbled with the buttons of Antonio's shirt, and it wasn't long before the garment was on the floor, forgotten in a whirl of battling tongues and wandering hands. Lovino's fingers were already caressing his chest, and Antonio was briefly reminded of the look he'd given him on the beach, but the thought was quickly extinguished by a hot spark as Lovino's fingers deftly tweaked his nipple and he gasped slightly.

The lack of the garment briefly sated the heat that was coursing through Antonio, but it wasn't to be quelled for long, and the Spaniard's own fingers were quickly attacking Lovino's own shirt.

"Careful, bastard, that's Armani," Lovino panted against Antonio's mouth, resuming the kiss before the other had a chance to respond. Antonio didn't want to be careful, but Lovino might get mad if he wasn't, and it was several incredibly long and annoying seconds before the buttons were all freed and Antonio could pull Lovino flush against him, enjoying the soft electric feel of Lovino's bare chest against his. Lovino's fingers slipped down the back of his trousers and grasped his behind as Antonio slid a hand up Lovino's back and buried it in his soft hair, the gesture pulling them ever-more-impossibly closer.

Antonio lost all ability to think further. There was only Lovino.

XxxxX

With a quiet murmur of disorientation, Antonio drowsily emerged into consciousness, blinking slowly in the half-light, an involuntary smile spreading across his face. A thin sunbeam illuminated the elegant wallpaper, a far cry from the bright red and yellow of his own room, and for a startling moment Antonio wondered where he could be and why he was waking up here. Had he been kidnapped while he was asleep?

Then he remembered, staring blearily at the snowy-white ceiling as his brain tried to come to terms with what had quite possibly been the best night of his life. Pure elation, ardour, and a searing fire running through his veins that he could never forget, a unforgettable feeling he wanted more of. It had been utterly indescribable. And he never wanted to be anywhere else, with anyone else. If this was how he'd wake up in the future, then Antonio was more than ready to go there as swiftly as possible. It was magical.

Lovino's warm form was curled up snugly against him, still peacefully asleep with one arm resting across Antonio's chest and his head on his shoulder. For once, his expression was calm, with no trace of the scowl that usually decorated his fine features. His olive-tanned skin was smooth, marred only by a couple of soft purple blotches marked on his collarbone. The gold ring that Antonio had given him last night was lying on one shoulder from where it had gotten moved up the chain; the only article that hadn't been removed last night. His gravity-defying curl still stuck out of his tousled brown hair, bouncing gently up and down with each sedate breath. Antonio smiled to himself. He could really watch Lovino all day if he wished. Every time he thought he'd figured the younger man out, he spotted something new that lit Lovino up in a new light and he had to start all over again. It was mesmerising. _He really is beautiful_, Antonio thought, gently tangling his fingers through Lovino's soft brown locks.

The Italian let out a quiet moan and his eyelids fluttered open, golden orbs blinking uncertainly before focusing on Antonio.

Antonio felt slightly guilty. "Hey. Didn't mean to wake you." He twisted his fingers slightly in Lovino's hair, before sliding the digits down the back of his head and coming to rest on the nape of his neck.

"Nmmph," Lovino replied indistinctly, still blinking to try adjust to the light. "Wha's th' time?"

Antonio twisted his neck around and caught sight of the illuminated scarlet display of the clock behind him. "About half nine. Morning, that is."

"You don't say," Lovino yawned and closed his eyes again. "Too early. I'm going back to sleep."

"Aw. Am I that uninteresting to talk to?" Antonio teased, playing with the strands of chocolate hair between his fingers.

"Yes," Lovino replied without missing a beat, still with his eyes closed. "And stop doing that."

Antonio leant forward and rubbed Lovino's nose with his own. "Why?"

Lovino coloured, pausing slightly in his sleepy annoyance as his brain failed to process a suitable response. "'Cos…uh, 'cos…Shut up. You're annoying, that's why."

Antonio laughed, slipping one arm around Lovino's bare back and pulling him close again, peppering soft kisses across his jawline. "So cute. Fine, _mi amor_, let's go back to sleep, shall we? It's not as if we've got anything important to do today, hmm?" It was only after he finished talking that Antonio realised what he'd just called Lovino; it wasn't really a term you'd address someone you'd known for two weeks with. But then again, Lovino wasn't any ordinary person he'd known for two weeks. He was a ray of light, a new coin, something Antonio couldn't get enough of.

But Lovino didn't seem to notice, probably because he wasn't properly awake. With another blissful smile, Antonio decided to join him. He leant his head against Lovino's, and let the tranquil atmosphere lull him back to sleep, completely content.

* * *

Yup. They finally got some. This is why I put the warnings in the first chapter. (Yes, this scene was written when I started publishing.) Officially the most graphic thing I've written too. And feedback would be rather appreciated on this matter – be nice to know how I did writing it, and maybe how I could improve. :)

Wanted to get this up yesterday, but I got distracted_…uhh, went out half the night. _Got my A level results yesterday! And yes, I am pleased enough to randomly tell the internet about this. :D

Long chapter, this. However, chapter 7 is unlikely to follow swiftly, as I've got a lot to do in the next month. I.e. uni prep. Oh dear…

Thanks go to my reviewers/fav-ers/followers/ninja-readers so far!


	7. The Provocation

_Antonio lay back on the beach, a brightly-coloured towel separating his body from the soft sand. Lovino was leant against him with his head resting on Antonio's chest. The Italian's shirt was inexplicably missing, as was his own, and Antonio neither knew nor cared where the garments had gone to. Lovino's skin was far too nice to run his fingers across, and for once, the younger wasn't protesting at any of his affectionate gestures. He just sighed in contentment as Antonio's fingers gently caressed his form. _

"_I love evenings like this," Antonio hummed happily, burying his spare hand in Lovino's hair. "It's just so peaceful. I wish things could stay like this forever, in this moment." _

_Lovino just grunted, "maybe," but Antonio knew the Italian returned the sentiment. His ears were red enough to be embarrassed enough by it, after all, and sure enough, when Antonio sat up and tilted Lovino's face towards himself, Lovino had the scarlet-faced expression that was the epitome of adorable. _

_Antonio smiled and cupped Lovino's face in one hand. "So cute. Te amo, Lovi. Muy mucho." _

_Lovino's face blossomed into that rare smile that Antonio loved so much, an unrestricted well of emotion that so few people were privileged to see. "Anch'io ti a-"_

_BZZZZZT! _

Antonio bolted upright on the sofa, blinking in disorientation and rather disappointed that his beautiful dream had ended so suddenly. And right at the good part, too. He so dearly wanted to hear Lovino say 'I love you' to him. That would prove once and for all that Lovino wasn't a heartbreaker, because that would mean that he and Antonio properly loved each other. But Antonio still suspected that it was too early to try turning his dream into reality, and he didn't want to drive Lovino away by being too intense.

But it wasn't the time to get caught up thinking these things – that had been the doorbell that had just rung. Although 'rung' wasn't exactly the right word; it always felt a bit wrong in Antonio's head. 'Buzzed' was a much more applicable word to sum up the sharp, alert sound. It wasn't the best of tones to alert someone, and Antonio had made a mental note to himself a couple of days after he'd moved in to get it changed once he had the chance. He just hadn't got the chance yet. Or was too lazy, take your pick.

Nevertheless, Antonio got to his feet and headed quickly for the door, humming mindlessly.

A loud shout assaulted his ears as he pulled back the entrance. "Yo, Toni! It's the awesome me, come to brighten your day!" Undoubtedly Gilbert, of course – no one else introduced themselves like that. It was at this point that Antonio remembered that they were due to go out that evening; him and Gilbert and Francis. The three had quickly become known as a trio in their few weeks together, and Antonio and Francis had become fast friends, despite the slightly rocky start with which they'd known each other. It was a strong friendship too, and Antonio felt like he'd known the Frenchman as long as he had Gilbert.

"It's evening, though, not day," Antonio pointed out to his friend, holding out his watch hand and smiling. "See? Seven thirty-six." It was mindlessly pedantic, he knew, but he liked exchanging pointless banter with his friends. It was a hobby, especially of the Germanic man's.

"Whatever," Gilbert shrugged. "You ready to go? We're gonna show you someplace new tonight. And 'cos it's Friday, we can get drinks too and not have to worry about work and shit."

Francis laughed quietly as Antonio dived back inside to grab his wallet and keys from off the table. "It doesn't matter if it's a worknight or not to you, Gilbert; you drink whenever you have the opportunity, regardless of timing. I've heard at least two stories of you turning up to work drunk or hungover."

"Oh yeah," Gilbert grinned. "This one time, the guys at work were using the power drill and the welder at once, same time as I was hung over, and it felt like they were trying to drill through my head. Fucking hilarious!" His expression was a strange one; halfway between a mirthful grin and a pained wince.

Antonio laughed, half in sympathy, half in amusement. Gilbert never did have a shortage of interesting anecdotes, usually involving either his own pain or someone else's. Antonio quickly locked the door to his flat, pocketing his keys, and the three friends begun the five-storey journey to the town below.

XxxxX

A short ride in Francis' shiny Peugeot later, the three were walking down one of the centre of town's main roads. Gilbert had said that he'd show Antonio a new place, which inevitably meant a bar of some kind, but he wasn't telling Antonio where, or giving any clues as to what sort of place it was. Which in turn, meant that it was either a surprise, or somewhere slightly eccentric that had to be seen to be understood. Antonio didn't mind, though. He loved surprises, always had done, and was still eager to discover new things about the town. He had only been here for less than four weeks, after all. There were places that made the town seem like a veritable treasure trove. It was one of the reasons he loved living here.

Antonio, who was a couple of paces ahead of the other two due to excitement, glanced about the four-way junction in the road ahead, head jerking about every which way like he was being electrocuted. "Which way is it now, guys?"

Francis suddenly tugged on Antonio's sleeve, back slightly in the way they'd just come. "_Non_, Antoine, in here."

Antonio turned back and looked up at the wooden-framed facade of what was unmistakably an English pub. The sign hanging off the front of the building read _The Old English Gentleman_, written in elegant script above a picture of a moustached man wearing a fancy suit and sipping from a cup of tea. Antonio stared, completely confused. This did not look like the sort of place that either Gilbert or Francis would frequent, or the sort of place that belonged in a coastal Italian town. It would have been more at home in a peaceful village in the English countryside.

He raised an eyebrow at his friends. "What is this place?"

Gilbert grinned. "_The Old English Gentleman_. It's a pub. We come here every couple of weeks or so, partly 'cos the drinks are pretty cheap, but mostly 'cos it's funny as shit to watch Francis piss the hell out of the guy who owns the place. They drive each other nuts – it's like a free show. Kesesese!"

Francis joined in the laughter. "But Arthur would never kick us out, though. He enjoys the rare pleasure of my company far too much."

"Yeah, that and we spend too much money here for him to make it financially viable to kick us out," Gilbert added with a smirk. "It's like safeguarding or something. Fucking hilarious safeguarding. C'mon in, Toni. I'll show ya about, and introduce you to Arthur. He's not a bad guy once you get to know him, but he's a bit spacey and grumpy at times, you know? Don't mind that. C'mon." He nodded cheerfully at Antonio, then led the way into the pub.

It was a bit darker inside than Antonio had expected, and most of the lighting cast a strange, but somehow homely, yellow glow over everything. Most of the tables were surrounded by plush sofas and rickety wooden chairs, and their tops littered with coasters and drinks menus. It was busier than Antonio would have guessed too – there were perhaps twenty or thirty people scattered about the room in various groups, most with drinks.

"They used to serve food here, as well as booze and stuff," Gilbert informed him as they headed for the bar itself. "But there were a load of complaints that it was awful, and eventually Arthur just decided to stop selling it as he wasn't getting enough profit. That's one of the things that Francis won't let him here the end of, you know, 'cos Arthur cooked it himself. It's a sore point of his."

There was a blond-haired man standing at the bar, wiping a glass down with a cloth. He immediately caught sight of the three new arrivals and sighed, his abnormally large eyebrows rising wearily. "Oh, bloody hell. Not you two again. And who's this you've got with you? Don't tell me you're breeding in an attempt to take over my pub." Antonio assumed that this must be the Arthur that Francis and Gilbert were speaking of. He spoke Italian with a strange accent, which Antonio assumed was English, judging by the décor of the pub, among other things.

Francis chuckled. "Breeding? Oh, _non_. Well, unless you're offering?" He winked bawdily at Arthur and blew him a quick kiss.

Arthur's face flared scarlet and he almost dropped the glass he was holding, before shouting in a rather unprofessional manner, "You perverted git! I was not suggesting anything of the sort! Now either buy something or get the hell out, you useless wankers!" He seemed to be easily ruffled by Francis' comments.

"Round o' beers, on me!" Gilbert announced quickly, obviously not wanting to get booted out. Well, not before he was drunk, at any rate.

Arthur nodded, relieved, and turned towards the nearest tap to begin pulling the drinks.

Once they'd got the drinks, Gilbert led the way toward a table nearby and dropped heavily onto the plump cushions of a sofa. "Ahh, that's better. Gotta buy the drinks before you start pissing Arthur off, Francis, or he'll kick us out for real one of these days."

"You don't care about being kicked out, though," Francis smiled. "You've been kicked out of more places than I can care to count."

"Yeah, but none of them have hilariousness to this level." Gilbert took a gulp of his beer. "Ohh yeah. That's the stuff."

Antonio swallowed a mouthful of his own drink. It was a little too bitter for his liking, but he wasn't the one paying for this round, so he wasn't going to complain. "So what's the deal with the guy who owns the place? Why did he think setting up a British pub in Italy was a good idea? Oh, and what's with his eyebrows? It's like a pair of fuzzy caterpillars set up house on his face."

"No idea," Gilbert grinned. "They're really freaky though, you're right. I might start calling him 'caterpillar-brows' from now on, though – that was a good…ah, whaddaya call it…analogy."

"They are very strange," Francis agreed. "But then, Arthur is altogether. He's a writer by trade, or is trying to be, so he runs this place in the evenings as a way to make a living. Why he's in Italy, though, has always been beyond me, and he never explains himself when I ask it of him. It is quite peculiar."

Gilbert nodded. "Yup. But still this place is pretty popular for what it is. Probably 'cos it sells cheap drinks and stuff, and 'cos it's really different to anything else about. Although as I said, we mainly come in here 'cos Francis likes to piss Arthur off. You'd have thought they'd have run out of stuff to yell at each other by now, but it seems to be endless. They just rub each other up the wrong way or something."

Antonio frowned, puzzled. "But if you hate each other, why doesn't Arthur just kick out out the moment you walk in the door?"

"Possibly because he could pay for this place for a month with the amount that Gilbert spends on alcohol," Francis laughed, earning himself a dark look from his silver-haired friend. "But _non_. Arthur and I don't actually hate each other. He just prefers to act like he does. I am sure that, in his own strange way, he is very fond of me. We've known each other for several years, after all, and things have always been the way that they are now. Although I have to say, he doesn't look up to me the way he did when we were younger."

"Probably 'cos he's realised you're a crappy role model," Gilbert replied cheerfully, inbetween two mouthfuls of beer.

Francis clasped his hands to his chest in mock pain. "Oh, how you wound me, Gilbert. But I know that you're only jealous. You never had someone look up to you like Arthur did to me."

Gilbert spluttered. "Whatever, man. He asked you for advice on a haircut, like, that one time. It's not as if he followed you about copying everything you did. And then he beat you up once too. Utterly owned your ass, if what I heard's right."

"You heard wrong," Francis denied, scowling. "I did not lose to that _rosbif_."

"What? Roast beef?" Antonio questioned. "I don't get it."

"It's a thing they have," Gilbert explained, his grin having returned to his face. "It's either a weird sort of fondness, or a veiled insult. I'm not quite sure which, though. They've got a strange relationship, as I said."

XxxxX

Some time later, the three were still in the pub, although the collection of empty glasses in front of them was significantly greater. Gilbert had easily drunk the most out of the three, having quaffed his way through at least eight pints of beer, yet didn't seem as drunk as he should be. Francis had alternated between drinking glasses of wine and poking fun at an increasingly irritated Arthur, who was trying his utmost to stay at the far side of the bar. Instead, most of their last few drinks had been served to them by a cheerful, loudmouthed young man wearing a pair of half-rimmed glasses. Francis had introduced him as 'our dear friend from across the pond', and Gilbert elaborated until Antonio understood that he was the Alfred who Francis had mentioned earlier. He was a young American man who worked part-time in _The Old English Gentleman_, mainly on busy days. Francis had shot a wink in Arthur's direction when this had come up in conversation, but Arthur had ignored it and Francis had failed to explain the gesture, leaving Antonio somewhat confused.

Antonio realised he'd been zoning out again and quickly returned his attention to the conversation at hand, which was another classic 'Who would you rather do?' contest, courtesy of a semi-drunk Gilbert. Francis was midway through posing a question,"…or that Ukrainian girl with the huge chest, _but_, her brother knows what happened?"

"Aw, fuck, Francis, that's hard," Gilbert groaned."

"That's what she said!" Antonio laughed. He was a little drunk at this point, but it was that bright and happy stage of drunk, where everything is funnier than it should be, and all ideas were good ideas. It was a happy feeling, a fuzzy feeling. He kept wanting to hug people, but then, he did that already, so it wasn't as if anyone could tell the difference on that count.

Gilbert burst out laughing, his half-full pint glass sloshing beer over the table. "Kesesese! Nice one, Toni! Alright, I'll go for Katyusha – I can take that Russian bastard any day of the week. Ok, my go now! Who'd you rather do, that brunette chick from that movie with all them robots, or Friederich the Second?"

"What?" Antonio asked.

"Gibert, _cheri_," Francis laughed. "No matter how much you admire them, you cannot use historical characters in these scenarios. It's got to be someone we know, or can at least visualise."

Gilbert bristled. "Why not? Fritz is awesome! You should know him! And also, it's all hyperthec…hypoall…hypotherm…not real, anyway. So it doesn't matter who we say!"

"The word is 'hypothetical', you git!" came a voice from across the room. "You're almost as abusive of language as Alfred!"

"Someone say my name?" The American bounded up as soon as his name was mentioned, looking expectantly at Arthur with shining blue eyes.

Arthur sighed. "Nevermind."

Alfred pouted. "Aw, why? C'mon, Artie, tell me!"

"No, now shut up and get back to work. I shouldn't have got involved in out of their stupid conversations anyway. It never ends well dealing with those gits." With this grumbled comment, Arthur turned around and went back to the other end of the bar to serve a waiting customer, leaving Francis, Gilbert and Antonio in a fit of laughter.

Francis elbowed Antonio with a knowing smile on his face, eyebrows raised in the expression that had quickly got nicknamed 'the innuendo-brows'. "Hey. D'you know the best part about knowing Gilbert and myself? You get to know all of the best facts about everyone in town! In this instance, it is our American friend over there. If you didn't notice, he came running as soon as Arthur mentioned his name, even though it was only a reference."

Antonio frowned, then smiled as realisation dawned. "_Ohh_. You mean he likes him."

"Yup!" Gilbert confirmed. "That's another hilarious thing. Our friend Arthur doesn't know jack shit about it. He just thinks it's part of Alfred's personality. Yanno, eagerness and that."

"I don't know about _hilarious,_ Gilbert," Francis replied. "Unrequited love is such a terrible thing. And all of poor Alfred's attempts to be noticed have been in vain."

Gilbert continued, regardless of the interruption. "Oh, and the other thing we know about him is that he agreed to work here so he can spend time with Artie, who's oblivious to the whole thing, as I said. Far as he's concerned, they're just work mates, and he doesn't like Alfred more than that. So nothing's happening between them. And as no one's got a clue who Arthur likes, not even Franny here, Alfred's not going to make a move anytime soon, 'case he screws things up royal."

Antonio laughed. "Ouch. Poor Alfred. I hope he gets Arthur to notice soon. So, do you guys really know everything about everyone in town?"

Gilbert shrugged and downed the last few mouthfuls of his ninth – or was it tenth? – beer. "Yup. Well, everyone that's got anything interesting about 'em. You wanna know who's having a love affair with someone? Ask Franny, he knows 'em all. Who they're married to, who they like, who they're doing on the side. He's like the fucking Secret Service or something, the amount he knows about people. I just tend to know who's pissed off at who, so I know when a good fight's about to go down."

Antonio chuckled. He knew how well Gilbert loved getting into a good fight. After all, he'd gotten them both in trouble on more than one occasion because of it. "You're always looking for fights, Gil. You'll end up getting hurt one of these days."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow at him, giving Francis a sideways glance as he did so. "Oh? So you're on the lookout for _me_ not to get hurt? There's a change of events if I ever did see one."

"You really are drunk, _cheri_," Francis smiled. "Only Drunk You can change the subject like that. Do you really want to get into this again? This discussion didn't go well when we mentioned it a couple of weeks back."

Dread began to pool in Antonio's heart, and the light, bubbly feeling of minor inebriation was beginning to leave him. He could see where this was going; only one conversation he'd had with these guys hadn't gone well, and a repeat wasn't something he desired. He'd been worried for ages after first finding out about what people thought of Lovino, and he didn't want to go through that again. It seemed that he hadn't been a hundred percent reassured by what Lovino told him after all. This was rather worrying – Antonio didn't want to not trust Lovino, what with mutual trust being a key part of a working relationship.

"Well, it didn't work last time," Gilbert replied shortly. "They're still together, ain't they? We've been friends for years, and yet Toni won't believe me over some good-looking guy he likes. I mean, one of us has to be a good friend and tell the other when he's dating a guy who's just playing him. I mean, he's known as the fucking heartbreaker!" Gilbert really was blunt when he was drunk; he wasn't even bothering to try think through what he was saying, and, true or not, it was rather upsetting.

"Lovi's _not_ a heartbreaker! He doesn't play people, guys, I know it!" Antonio _really _didn't want this subject bringing up again. He already felt close to tears, but that might have been the alcohol exacerbating his emotions. But the predominant emotion was once again fear – if something was mentioned more than once, it really was serious, and Antonio didn't want this to be serious. He couldn't face it being true.

"_Non, _it's true, you know," Francis countered. "Just look. See that girl by the bar, with the brown hair? She's been a past victim of your dear Lovino's charms, and although that would be some time ago by now, he affected her pretty badly. And the one with the pink top, over in that group? Your beloved boyfriend's played her too. And over there-"

"Stop it!" Antonio slammed his hands on the table, stood up before he could realise it. Anger coursed through his veins, but for every enraged thought, there were two more that were fuelled on something much worse – panic. Antonio thought he'd got over the rumours he'd heard when he'd talked to Lovino the other week, but it turned out he was far from it. Putting faces to the situations made everything seem so real, like it was once again an actual possibility instead of a rumour. Lovino had denied all association with the rumours, but could it be possible that he'd been lying all along? Antonio shook his head, futilely trying to dispel the distressed thoughts. "Lovi's not someone like that! He wouldn't do that to people!"

Francis and Gilbert exchanged wary glances. "He's got you good, don't he?" Gilbert sighed. "C'mon Toni, you know people better than this. We're trying to warn you here. I know talking 'bout this didn't go well last time, but you've got to listen to us, or you're gonna get hurt…Ah, Franny, you wanna take over from me here? I can't form a cohe…a proper sentence 'bout now. More beers!" His voice was beginning to slur.

Francis sighed. "Gilbert…why do you give up at the most important part? _Dieu_… But seriously, Antoine, do not trust Lovino. Gilbert, he knows him fairly well through their brothers, and he has seen a side to Lovino you don't want directed at you. A much harsher side than the one you've undoubtedly seen. If you continue blindly into this relationship, Antoine, you will see that Lovino doesn't care for anyone, and least of all you. It is all just a game to him-"

"Whoa, whoa, speak of the devil," Gilbert grinned, taking a mouthful of yet another beer that had appeared from nowhere. "It's like Beetlejuice or something; we must have said his name too many times."

Antonio blinked, momentarily confused, and then realised what Gilbert must be referring to. He couldn't stop his heart from soaring at the mere thought, and his wish was quickly realised by the sight of Lovino stood at the bar, waving a small plastic box in front of Alfred's face and scowling heavily. His brown hair was dishevelled for some reason – perhaps he'd been running – but Antonio was so captivated that he couldn't look away. Lovino always looked stunning to him. He could probably walk out of a neck-deep marsh and Antonio would still want to hug and kiss him senseless. And it was only public decency that kept him from doing that right now.

Antonio froze as he realised something. Here was his chance to prove to Gilbert and Francis that Lovino wasn't The Heartbreaker after all.

He stood up, his characteristic smile now returned to his face, and waved happily. "Hey, Lovi! Over here!"

XxxxX

Lovino wasn't quite sure how his evening had gone wrong. Earlier, as was usual for the first Friday of every month, Lovino had gotten dragged over to his brother Feliciano's. It was an agreement between them, at Feliciano's insistence that was, that they'd still spend time as brothers and not just as work colleagues. Normally, he'd just go to Feliciano's, have dinner, and then get stuck doing whatever inane activity Feliciano had dreamed up for the evening, such as a game of some kind. But this wasn't where his evening had taken a bad turn. No; somehow, between the two of them doing the washing-up and now, Lovino had been roped into returning a video game that Feliciano had borrowed from the loudmouthed American who worked at that strange bar.

What he also wasn't sure about was why he'd had to come here in the first place. Yes, it was on his way home, but that was only because he had to go through the middle of town anyway to get home. Feliciano was using him for slave labour, that was what it was. Lovino frowned. No, it was more likely that Feliciano was just being lazy as usual. He didn't have the cruelty to use anyone as slave labour. He just gave you those wide eyes brimming with tears, and no-one could say no to that without feeling like a complete asshole.

To make matters worse, it had been windy on the way back, with a humidity to the air that suggested a storm was on the way. Lovino had his car, but it was several minutes walk to the pub from the nearest decent car park, and Lovino had been thoroughly buffeted. It hadn't blown him off his feet or anything, but Lovino was in the sort of mood where five minutes of constantly pushing his fringe out of his eyes had thoroughly annoyed him.

And now he had to endure going into a place which had almost given him food poisoning, and return a plastic box to a guy who deliberately enjoyed shouting pointless nonsense in his ear at top volume. Lovino felt like punching someone, but knew better than to do that. He didn't need an assault charge on his record, and an unprovoked attack would put a nasty dent in his reputation which would take some time to repair. No, it would be easier to just stay quiet and endure on this occasion, and it'd soon resolve itself so he could get out of there. Well, perhaps with some well-placed curses to speed the works up a bit, of course.

Exhaling sharply through his nose in irritation, Lovino approached the pub and pushed open the door, which, despite the size and thickness of the wood, swung easily at his touch on well-balanced and oiled hinges. Since it was, among other things, a Friday, the place was fairly busy, and Lovino took care not to lock eyes with anyone. He'd got into many an awkward situation by making eye contact with either an ex, or someone who was close to an ex, and if there was one thing he didn't need tonight, it was something that was going to piss him off further.

He walked quickly but not conspicuously to the bar and glanced up and down for Alfred, who didn't seem to be about. Lovino growled to himself. He just wanted to get the job done and get out of here, but no, the world had to be against him that evening.

"Evening, Lovino. What can I get you?" A voice questioned, and Lovino looked up. Arthur Kirkland, the bushy-browed owner of the place, was watching him with a quizzical expression. Lovino didn't blame him for the look. _The Old English Gentleman_ wasn't a place that Lovino was usually seen in.

Lovino shrugged. "Where's that hamburger bastard?"

"Alfred?" Arthur asked. "Oh, he's downstairs in the storeroom. I sent him to get some things we're running low on. He'll be back in a minute, I expect."

"Whatever," Lovino replied dismissively, and flicked one hand before settling onto a stool by the bar.

Arthur raised an eyebrow before wandering off again without another word. Not that he'd ever admit it, but Lovino had a certain grudging respect for Arthur. It wasn't _like_, per se – Lovino didn't tend to _like _people – but Arthur was one of the few people that Lovino could stand to be in a room with. It was probably their shared enjoyment of music, criticism and annoying a certain Francis Bonnefoy, that meant that they could vaguely tolerate each other. Plus you can't hate someone who gives you alcohol when you're on speaking terms.

It wasn't long before Alfred turned up, wearing a grease-smeared apron and a giant infuriating smile. "Yo, 'Vino! What's up?"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "The fucking ceiling; what else? I came to return this damn game Feliciano borrowed off you."

"Huh?" Alfred blinked. "Feli borrowed a game off me? When'd that happen? What game was it?"

Lovino ripped the offending game out of his bag and waved the box in Alfred's face. "This one, damn it! You should know your life well enough to know who you've lent stuff to!"

"Whoa, calm down, dude," Alfred grinned, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Chill your beans. Life's too short, yanno?" He took the game from Lovino and inspected it. "Hmm? Oh, yeah, this is mine! I remember now! Feli borrowed it after he was over at my place, and-"

"I honestly don't give a fuck," Lovino interrupted. "I just came to give you the game and that's that. I haven't got the time to listen to your crap." Now that Alfred had worked a crack into Lovino's diplomacy shields, the Italian saw nothing better than the excuse to have a bit of a shout. He would have gone on, and promptly left at the end of the rant once he'd let off a bit of steam, but something – or rather someone – prevented him.

"Hey, Lovi! Over here!"

Lovino winced inwardly at the voice. _Not him, not here, not now. Damn it all. Of all the coincidences… _Wiping the exasperated look off his face, he turned around and faced Antonio, who was waving delightedly at him. Evidently, this meant 'come over here', even if Lovino really wasn't in the mood about now. But he fought to keep his face calm and reluctantly walked over to the excited Spaniard, which immediately resulted in him being tackled with an energetic hug, followed by a swift kiss that he should have been expecting. Lovino spat out a couple of curses out of habit, but even Antonio could tell that they were half-hearted.

"Wow, Lovi, I didn't expect to see you here!" Antonio's tone was perhaps a little more wobbly than it was normally, and Lovino quickly deduced that he'd been drinking, even if the amount of glasses on the table didn't give it away. "I missed you! I haven't seen you since, uh…"

"Wednesday," Lovino deadpanned. It was true. It had only been two days since the two had last seen each other, their latest date at a traditional restaurant near Lovino's workplace, but even so, Antonio insisted on meeting up every three or four days unless Lovino had extra work and couldn't make it. Lovino had never expected him to be so possessive when they first met.

"Mmhmm!" Antonio laughed. He still hadn't entirely let go of Lovino – he still had a bit of a grip on Lovino's arms and if they hadn't have been in a public place, Lovino might have hit him. "It feels like a long time, anyway~. You want to join us for a bit, Lovi?"

"Us?" Lovino reluctantly asked, half dreading the answer. The friends that Antonio had mentioned so far were people that Lovino did not get along with. And that was putting it politely.

"Yeah!" Antonio replied happily, pulling Lovino down onto the sofa without waiting for a reply and sitting down next to him. "Lovi, these are my friends Francis, and Gilbert. Guys, this is Lovi."

"I know him already," Gilbert growled, as Lovino guessed he would.

Antonio blinked. "Really?"

Lovino quickly cut off any chance Gilbert had of replying before he took it, eager to get this over with. "He's the narcissistic brother of the bastard my little brother's dating. End of story."

"Hmm? Really? Wow, that's great! You guys can be friends too, right?"

God, that guy was oblivious. Antonio had completely missed the dark looks that Lovino and Gilbert were exchanging. Admittedly, Lovino had only met the elder Germanic brother three or four times before, but the resulting exchanges had not been pretty. The last time they'd been in the same room, Gilbert had remarked a couple of derisory comments on what he thought of Lovino's lifestyle choices, Lovino had responded with some well-chosen words on everything from Gilbert's reluctance to move out his brother's basement to how potatoes were supremely inferior to tomatoes. It had taken Ludwig's strength and some copious sobbing from Feliciano to stop the two coming to blows.

"Yeah, sure. _Friends_," Gilbert replied, his tone laced with sarcasm, which the ever-oblivious Antonio failed to notice. "Right, Lovino? All good friends."

"Yay!" Antonio chirped, one arm hooked across Lovino's shoulders, preventing him from any form of escape. "I told you guys you'd get along!" He had a stupidly large grin plastered across his face.

Lovino reckoned the situation would be anything but what Antonio was thinking. While Antonio chattered away happily in the background, Lovino was being warily eyed by both Gilbert and Francis. Lovino would have bet his savings that they were the friends that Antonio had referenced a couple of weeks ago, and that they knew exactly what he was up to. And they didn't exactly want to let him get away with it, either. At a guess, they'd continuously try to piss him off, to make him admit what he was really intending, so that Antonio would tell him to get lost and not end up heartbroken. But Lovino had been in enough situations like this to know the protocol. He'd wait for ten or fifteen minutes, brush aside any barbed comments that came his way with his perfectly polished charm, and once that time was up, make his excuses and leave.

Gilbert took a slurp of the beer that had somehow materialised next to him. Judging from the amount of similar glasses, he was the main culprit of the drinking, and he was already pretty far gone. That made things a little more dangerous to Lovino, as drunk people rarely listened to logic, but it was of no importance. "So, Lovi, what-"

"Lovino," Lovino growled. He'd had enough of Antonio calling him the stupid nickname, and certainly wouldn't take it being used sarcastically by some silver-haired idiot.

"Yeah," Gilbert drawled. "So, I heard you and Toni met in a bar someplace."

"Yes. It was at _Le Onde_. He was a good dancer and it was intriguing." Not strictly the truth, but it wasn't technically a lie, so it was all that was necessary to say.

Gilbert nodded, barely concealing a smirk. "How interesting. And you've been together for, how long now?"

"About three weeks." Lovino kept his tone guarded. Gilbert would already have known such facts from Antonio; these questions were obviously pointless small-talk. He was guessing that the big guns would come next. Three questions, with the final blow being the third. Drunks were hardly subtle.

"Uh-huh." Gilbert gave Francis a knowing glance. The blond narrowed his eyebrows and shook his head slightly, evidently knowing but not approving of what Gilbert was about to do. "So, Lovino. When was it that you were intending on dumping Antonio and leaving him heartbroken? 'Cos that's what you do, right? _Mr._ _Heartbreaker_?"

"Gilbert!" Antonio cried. The hand on Lovino's right shoulder tensed slightly.

Lovino gritted his teeth. _Don't get pissed off, don't get pissed off, you'll lose your chances with Antonio._ In the back of his mind, he was wondering why he was so bothered about losing his chances with Antonio, as usually he'd just find someone new and not care a toss, but he was so caught up in trying not to get angry that an answer didn't come to that particular question. "Reputations and reality are two different things, Mr. Beilschmidt. I would suggest you learn the difference."

"Yeah, and in this case they're the same fucking thing," Gilbert scoffed. "C'mon, admit it and go find someone else to prey on, you…you parasitic lamprey."

"The fuck? I'm an _eel_?" Lovino asked incredulously, not expecting this trend in insults. In an instant, he'd lost all the class and eloquence from his sentences, and his fingers were now clenched underneath the table.

"Gilbert, Gilbert, stop it! Lovi, _querido_, he doesn't mean it, he's just a bit drunk, honest!" Antonio laid a hand on his arm and looked at him, slightly panicked, and Lovino felt his heart skip a beat. "Tell them. Tell them it's just rumours; they've got it all wrong."

Ah, now Lovino was suddenly back in his comfort zone. He knew exactly how to handle this situation. Lying was something that he was _good _at. It was at half of what he did, after all. Lovino sighed, not needing to fake the exasperation in the sound, and pulled Antonio into a hug. "It's ok, don't panic. Everything's fine" He felt Antonio grip gratefully onto the back of his shirt, letting him have ten seconds of comfort before letting go of the embrace. But he left his hands resting on Antonio's. It never hurt to maintain a bit of contact in these situations. "Don't worry about what they're saying, ok? Sometimes when people hear things it can take a while to erase, to prove what they heard wrong. But you don't need to worry about any of it. I'll deny all of their false accusations, as none of it's even slightly true. I'm not going to hurt you; I won't ever hurt you. And don't let anyone else convince you otherwise, ok?" The smooth charm fell right off his tongue, as he'd honed it to. There was no worry in the tone, only enveloping reassurance. It was all Antonio wanted, and so it was all that he'd hear.

Antonio was quickly reassured by this, and the panicked look had gone from his face, replaced by a slightly nervous version of his normal smile. He held on happily to Lovino's hands. Lovino was pleased that his little speech had worked, but was rather annoyed that the hand-holding would mean that he had to stay a bit longer. Something bad was bound to happen. He could feel it, like standing next to a bomb from World War Two. It was right next to you, you could hear it ticking, but there was no way of telling when it was going to explode and no time to outrun the blast radius.

This was almost immediately proven true, as across the table was a very different opinion. "He lied!" Gilbert yelled, pointing straight at Lovino with a slightly wobbly finger. "Right to your face he lied!"

"I'm not lying!" Lovino contradicted him. "Just because you can't keep your facts straight doesn't mean I'm not telling the truth."

"You fucking well are," Gilbert replied firmly. "Last time I saw you, you'd admitted the rumours are all true. So don't try pull the wool over my eyes, _arschloch_. Go find someone who's not my friend to play your games with."

Lovino was well and truly pissed off by now, and he wasn't doing a great job of holding his temper in check. "I don't play games, bastard. Get that into your tiny little brain. Jackass."

"Guys! Stop fighting!" Antonio pleaded, tugging gently at Lovino's hand.

Usually, Lovino would have reassured him that it was ok, then gone back to arguing with Gilbert until he'd won, but at the moment, all he could do was obey the imploring emerald eyes staring at him. Reluctantly, of course. "I will if he does," he huffed, rolling his eyes at the oak-beamed ceiling.

"Gil?" Antonio turned his pleading eyes at Gilbert, but the semi-drunk Germanic man was impervious to the look.

"No way, man, I ain't backing down." Gilbert folded his arms firmly over his chest, but within a few seconds had unfolded them to take another mouthful of his drink. "I'm gonna sit here until either Arthur chucks us all out, or you tell that manipulative dick where to stick it and dump his worthless ass."

Francis laid a calming hand on Gilbert's arm, which unfortunately didn't have the effect desired. "_Cheri_, I do not think pure stubbornness will win this. You need to use a logical and reasoned argument. And that is not your strong point when you're as drunk as you are."

"I did the logical-and-shit argument when I was sober!" Gilbert scoffed. "He didn't believe me either!"

"That's because you're not listening to me!" Antonio argued back. "It's all just a load of bad rumours, you guys. You've heard a bit of bad stuff from some people, but it doesn't mean it's true! It's not like everyone says. If you get to know Lovi, you'll see everything's fine, trust me." Wow. He'd really warmed to Lovino's half-baked spiel. Lovino could get the guy to advertise for him at this rate if he wanted to. Of course, wound right round his finger was exactly the effect he'd been looking for.

Gilbert gave Antonio an unimpressed look. "You've not seriously fallen for that line, have you? _Oh, it's all a misunderstanding, they don't know what they're saying_. It's the oldest fucking line in the book.

Lovino knew he was just one more insult away from snapping. He could feel it, sat inside his stomach like a coiled spring just one notch away from its breaking point. Time to make a quick exit before he either punched Gilbert right in his self-satisfied face or blew his cover and ruin three weeks of work on a relationship. "You know what? I've got better things to do than sit here and listen to you slag me off and refuse to listen to reason. Keep your stupid opinions to yourself, but don't try planting lies in Antonio's head, damn it! I'm outta here." He promptly stood up, letting go of Antonio's hand as he did so, and walked smartly out of the pub into the dark street beyond.

"Lovi, wait!" Antonio called, standing up and chasing him out.

Lovino sighed and kept walking until he was a good twenty metres out into the street. Then he let Antonio catch up, as it was clear that he wasn't going to give up any time soon. Truth be told, he just wanted to go home and sleep, but part of him was still glad that Antonio was chasing him and not back inside the bar listening to his friends. Sure, they were the ones telling the truth and he was the one spouting a pack of rubbish, but he didn't give a damn about the technicalities. So long as he got his way.

It took Antonio less than three seconds to catch up once he'd slowed. "Lovi…Lovi, please don't be mad," he panted, reaching out a hand and catching hold of Lovino's sleeve. "They don't understand, and Gil's been drinking, he doesn't know what he's saying. Don't…don't hate me, please!" His green eyes were wide with fear. Lovino guessed that the alcohol wasn't helping his unsure emotions.

Lovino sighed. "I'm not mad at you, idiot. I don't blame people for stuff other bastards do. It's just…it's not you. I've had an annoying evening." It was true enough.

"Aww," Antonio smiled and unexpectedly gave him a hug. "Poor Lovi. Is work going badly again?"

"Yeah. Well, I mean, no more so than usual. Feliciano just made me return a game to that American idiot who works at that place. Makes me do all his dirty work, just 'cos it's on my way home." Having explained himself, Lovino was rather hoping Antonio would let him go now. Stupid long hugs. It wasn't comforting in the slightest.

Antonio gently stroked his hair and Lovino had to resist the urge to swat him off. "Aww. It'll be ok, Lovi." _Isn't this suddenly kind of backwards? _"I'm glad you're not mad, though. Gilbert'll see sense, once he's sober. I'll talk to him later. I'm sorry he was so mean to you, Lovi. But I was just trying to get him to see that you're not who he says you are. He doesn't know you for who you really are, only the rumour. ¿_Besos?" _

"What?" Lovino hadn't been expecting the sudden change from Italian to Spanish; it took him several seconds just to notice it, and even then he was wondering if Antonio had said what he thought he'd said. It was a very abrupt change of subject if he had.

Antonio just smiled at him, focus occasionally straying to his lips. His green eyes were shining, all traces of fear gone, and he was obviously gratefully reassured. Lovino scowled. How the hell did Antonio manage to be adorable? It defied all physical laws. But it was all in his own interest, so he just rolled his eyes and shrugged. Antonio _had _said what Lovino had heard.

Antonio pulled him closer and kissed him gently. He smelled like tomatoes and alcohol, and, for some reason, a little bit like fresh-cut grass. His lips were soft against Lovino's own. It was quite captivating, and for a second, Lovino allowed himself to be lost in the sensation and relax into the kiss.

But he knew it was best not to let himself get too deep, even if it was good enough to want to stay a bit longer, and so he pulled away after a few seconds. He felt Antonio sigh quietly in disappointment as he did so. Lovino found himself feeling a little disappointed, but the feeling was quickly quashed by the vague annoyance and rising tiredness that he was already feeling.

"Hey, Lovi?" Antonio said quietly, still holding Lovino gently by the waist.

Lovino sighed, hoping this would be the last thing so he could go home. He was shattered, and all the anger had gone, leaving him completely drained. It was half ten at night, and he just wanted to go home and sleep. "What?"

"You wanna come over to my place for a bit tomorrow evening? I didn't really get to see you properly today. And I think you need a bit of time to relax, right? I'll cook dinner, and we can watch a movie, maybe? What do you think?"

_Tempting_, Lovino's mind muttered before he banished the unwanted thought from it. "Maybe. I'll call tomorrow afternoon, see how I feel once I've had some sleep." Delay was probably the best tactic for the moment. His mind wasn't really up to thinking now.

"Ok~," Antonio replied, giving him a quick kiss. "I'll see you then, ok, Lovi?"

_Again with that annoying nickname. _"Whatever. I'm going to go home and sleep now. Don't call me before noon if you value your life."

Antonio laughed. "Alright, I promise."

Lovino waited for Antonio to release the hug, but it didn't come. "Bastard, let go of me. By 'I'm going', I mean '_I'm fucking well going,_' you know!"

"Hehe, so cute," Antonio smiled, pecking Lovino on the lips once more before finally letting him go. "I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well,_ querido_." He started walking back towards _The Old English Gentleman_, but it was kind of a sideways walk that allowed him to look back and wave at Lovino at the same time.

_Thank fuck_, Lovino thought to himself. _I thought that evening'd never end. I'm off to get some damn sleep. _He quickly began walking down the road, his only thoughts on getting back to his car and the comfort of his own bed, and the only sounds were his footsteps and the distant roar of traffic from streets beyond.

XxxxX

Antonio's high spirits faded slightly once he'd walked back into the pub. He was pretty sure he had some explaining to do. Not only had he got to explain to Gilbert and Francis how they were wrong, he'd been rude to them as well. Walked out on them, for one thing. Almost shouted at them, for another. They did deserve a bit of an apology. Antonio bit his lip. This was the second time now that this exact thing had happened. He'd been getting on great with Gilbert and Francis, then suddenly Lovino would come up in conversation, causing Gilbert and Francis to ask Antonio to break up with him, then Antonio would get mad and walk out. Did Lovino really mean so much to him that he'd defy and argue with his best friends instead of having Lovino mad at him?

And, on the other hand, were Gilbert and Francis so worried about the rumours that they'd constantly bring it up? Was it really a worry? Antonio didn't think the rumours were so bad, now that Lovino had explained, but he couldn't help being a little nervous. Gilbert never flew off the handle like that without a reason. Antonio didn't like it.

But it would work itself out, Antonio hoped. He and Lovino were together now. Eventually, Gilbert and Francis would realise that it was becoming a permanent fixture, and they'd have no choice but to believe that the rumours were just that; rumours. And it'd all be ok, in the end.

* * *

Pfft. This was intended to be a short filler chapter. It's now 13 pages, and I added another chapter in after it.  
Apologies this took a while. I've been busy; it's only a week until I move out (le scared). So updates after that are currently unknown, but I am by no means abandoning my fics. This one has chapters 10-onwards half-written already. I'm just not sure when I'm going to get the time to write. But enough about that.

There is actually a pub called The Old English Gentleman in my town. :D


	8. The Confused

The next day couldn't go fast enough for Antonio, but then, he found he was now craving Lovino's company more than anything, to the point that he'd be counting down hours until it. True to his word, Antonio hadn't called Lovino before noon, although that had mainly been because he had been asleep. He'd drunk perhaps a little too much the previous night, and had woken up at quarter to one in the afternoon with a splitting headache. Two paracetemol had quickly solved that problem though, and he'd phoned Lovino some time later as he'd promised.

Lovino had seemed to be in a better mood when he called than he had been fourteen hours ago, and Antonio was glad he wasn't holding a grudge from the previous night. He'd taken quite a lot of shit from Gilbert, and Antonio had been slightly worried that Lovino wouldn't want to meet up anymore, but that wasn't the case, thankfully. Everything seemed to have ended well, despite getting off on a bad foot. He'd have to sort that out later, once he'd proven to his friends that Lovino wasn't really a bad guy.

Their brief phone conversation – well, it hadn't exactly been brief, but Antonio had wanted it to have gone on for longer than it did, so he considered it to be brief – had ended up with Lovino agreeing to come over for dinner at Antonio's that evening, with an estimated time of arrival of seven pm. Naturally, this had caused quite a frenzy for Antonio. First, there was the obvious question; what should he cook? Something Italian would probably be good, but he didn't want Lovino to think he had no imagination. After extensive debate with himself through the afternoon, he'd decided just to go with his time-tested favourite of paella. He reckoned Lovino would like it, and he wanted to involve his boyfriend in more of his own life anyway, and his favourite dish seemed like a nice way to start. Even if he probably was just over-thinking everything.

Then he spent an hour and a half cleaning up the flat, which had been quite hard, as, even though it had been three weeks, everything was still chaos from when he moved in. He'd been far too lazy to clean up most things before, and this was the first time he'd had an excuse that meant he couldn't procrastinate. On the bright side, though, he'd found a box full of bits of stuff that he'd been looking for for weeks, including three forks, a holepunch and his computer mouse. Why they were in the same box he'd never know. But eventually, he got the place clean enough to not make Antonio embarrassed to have Lovino there.

By this point, it was about half past five, which meant that Antonio had just enough time to decide what he wanted to wear before he needed to make a start on preparing food. He was rather glad he'd picked something he was good at making – it meant that he both didn't have to worry about how it ended up – much – and could make it very easily. It was rather reassuring.

Antonio very much enjoyed cooking, so it was easy for him to lose himself in what he was doing once he got started, and the sound of the doorbell just over an hour and a half later almost made him knock over the pan he was attending to. Once he'd got over the almost-heart-attack he'd just experienced, he eagerly ran to the door and flung it open. His heart soared at the stunning sight he was presented with. It was, of course, Lovino. He was wearing a white shirt with an open dark blue waistcoat, and a green neckscarf that went beautifully with his eyes was tied around his neck. The aforementioned eyes were closer to being green today, but they couldn't be called green in themselves as there was too much gold flecked in them still. They were a beautiful enigma, much like Lovino himself.

"Lovi!" Antonio cried in delight, flinging both arms around Lovino's neck and pulling him into a tight hug.

Lovino's voice came from somewhere within the vicinity of his shirt collar. "Goddamnit, bastard, when will you learn _no freaking hugs_?" The motion of his mouth against Antonio's collarbone felt rather strange, although not unpleasant.

Antonio just hugged him tighter. "Aw, Lovi, you know you love it really," he cooed softly into Lovino's ear, kissing him softly on the cheek.

"Shut the fuck up," Lovino retorted, finally getting Antonio to let him go. Although, to Antonio's delight, the Italian's cheeks were dusted red, indicating that Antonio was right.

"So cute," Antonio murmured, unable to stop himself from smiling. He took Lovino's hand and gently led him inside. "Come on in. Dinner should be ready soon – oh! I forgot to turn off the cooker! Oh no!" He let go of Lovino's hand and sprinted back inside to check on his cooking.

XxxxX

Dinner was a fairly quiet affair, on Lovino's part at least. Antonio had been talking the hind legs off a donkey throughout the whole thing, and the front legs too, and most of the head. Lovino had contented himself just to listen unless he was asked a direct question or had a point he wanted to make. Antonio was a much better conversation artist anyhow, even if Lovino thought he'd never shut up. Still, it was better than awkward silence, and Lovino had sat through his fair share of those, even if he did know how to dissipate them.

He'd been a bit sceptic of the situation when Antonio had announce that dinner was some Spanish dish that he'd never heard of before, but he'd ended up being pleasantly surprised. Not that he'd ever go so far as to admit that the Spaniard was a good cook, but the paella, as it had been called, had been delicious. The little mishap at the door hadn't damaged the food in the slightest either. When he'd told Antonio that it 'wasn't awful', it looked like he'd just given the older man the moon. Either Antonio had been really nervous about it being bad, or he was somehow able to see through Lovino's not-compliments. Lovino was rather concerned that it was probably the latter.

Antonio returned to the room, having just taken the plates back to put into the kitchen, and settled back at the table, pulling his chair closer to Lovino's than was generally accepted by social convention, or by Lovino's personal-space preferences. He didn't hesitate to put his hands on Lovino's, either, and stared happily into his eyes. "So, _mi Lovinito_, what d'you want to do now? It's still pretty early – you want to watch a movie or something?"

Lovino bit back the sarcastic response about not belonging to Antonio – it wouldn't help his cause – and replied, "Fine, whatever. As long as you've got something good."

"Should do, depends what movies you like." Antonio stood up and pulled Lovino to his feet after him. Lovino only narrowly avoided his face crashing into Antonio's chest. "C'mon, I'll show you what I have." He'd barely finished this sentence before he started dragging Lovino off into the living room to look at movies, the Italian rolling his eyes as he did so.

Antonio had a fairly nice flat, as places went. It couldn't exactly be called stylish, but it had a certain homey quality to it that made it nice to be in. The living room was comfortable enough, with giant plushy sofas and a widescreen TV. A large section of one of the walls was covered in photos of Antonio with people who Lovino presumed were friends and relatives. Gilbert's red-eyed face appeared in quite a large number of them, along with a young man who looked a lot like Antonio, only with brown eyes and ponytailed curly dark hair. Lovino suspected a relative of some kind, but he couldn't be certain unless he asked, and he couldn't be bothered with that.

A hand on his back suddenly made him jump, but it was only Antonio once again failing to understand the concept of personal space. Although it wasn't as bad this time; the hand wandering up and down his back was almost like a massage. Lovino had to resist the urge to lean into and get the motion to continue as his eyelids fluttered shut. _DVDs, you're looking for DVDs. Don't encourage the bastard. _

With reluctance, Lovino turned ninety degrees and began flicking through Antonio's DVD shelf, trying to find something that looked fairly decent. It was romcoms, dramas and cartoons, for the most part, which didn't really interest Lovino, who considered them boring, melodramatic and childish respectfully. But he had to find something, otherwise he'd be stuck watching something awful, or they'd have to find something else to do and it would be awkward. Then, he got to the end of the shelf. "Whoa, you've got _Dark Times_? That movie's awesome."

Antonio smiled. "Gilbert's always trying to persuade me to get more action movies. He got me that one for my birthday last year – he said it was pretty good. I haven't seen it in ages, actually. You want to watch that one?"

"I guess," Lovino shrugged. He was quite surprised Antonio owned a movie like this – it was mostly a shoot-'em-up film with a fair bit of blood and violence, and it really didn't fit with Antonio's kind and easygoing personality. But he wasn't going to appreciate the film so far as to thank Gilbert for it; he was content with just watching.

"Yay~," Antonio chirped, pulling the DVD off the shelf and spinning around to the direction of the player. Did nothing get this guy down? "Do you want popcorn or something before I put it on?"

"Nah, it's fine. I don't like the stuff anyway." Lovino dropped down onto Antonio's sofa, deliberately picking the best spot, with the best view of the TV.

"Ok," Antonio replied happily, placing the DVD in the slot and clicking the remote to the external channel. He quickly slid the room's lights down to minimum before taking the seat next to Lovino. The younger man was just starting to be relieved that Antonio was keeping to his own personal space for once when Antonio slid up the sofa and wrapped his arm around Lovino's shoulders, snuggling up close. He nuzzled Lovino's neck slightly. "_Hola, mi querido_," he murmured.

"Shut up and watch the movie," Lovino muttered, but he didn't push Antonio away. The opening titles lit up the screen and cast an eerie blue light across the room.

The movie lasted about two hours, during which Antonio had managed to loop his arm around Lovino's back, eliminate all but a micrometre of space between them, and entangle their legs together on top of the sofa's extendable footrest. He also had an annoying habit of burying his face in Lovino's neck during what he called 'the scary bits', which could be anything from from a tension-mounted car chase to someone harmlessly pulling a gun out of their jacket. Lovino wasn't quite sure if the Spaniard was genuinely frightened, or if this was just a ploy to get more attention from Lovino. Although, he strongly suspected the latter, and wasn't going to pander to Antonio's every whim even if it wasn't, so he just rolled his eyes and didn't do anything.

Antonio clicked off the DVD player as the credits started to roll up the screen and the room was plunged into semi-darkness. "Hehe~. That was a pretty good movie, wasn't it, Lovi? Although it kept getting scary a lot."

"You're just a pussy," Lovino retorted. "Turn the lights back on, damn it."

A soft pair of lips briefly contacted with his cheek. "Ok, _corazon_." Antonio got up, immediately causing the parts of Lovino's body that he'd been touching to cringe at the onslaught of cold air. Lovino had to force himself not to shiver as he adjusted to the cold.

Then the lights came back on and Lovino screwed his eyes shut as his retinas were overloaded. "Damn it, couldn't you have done that a bit slower? You killed my eyes!"

There was the sound of footsteps, then the lips brushed his cheek again. "Sorry, Lovi. I forgot it would be really bright."

"You forgot turning on the lights would be bright," Lovino muttered sarcastically. Sometimes the level of Antonio's brainpower amazed him. But he found if he opened his eyes little by little, the light levels were slowly becoming bearable, apart from the white lightbulb-shaped blotch at the centre of his field of vision.

"Mmhmm," Antonio replied, snuggling close again. "So, Lovi, what're we going to do now?" His voice was lower this time, almost purring gently into Lovino's ear. He was almost definitely up to something.

Lovino was about to reply with something that would have allowed him to go home, but the words died in his throat as Antonio began kissing his neck and talented hands began wandering again. Sparks of electricity ran up Lovino's spine and he bit back a moan as he inevitably let himself succumb to the pleasure. Antonio's lips collided with his again. Obviously this meant that the question was rhetorical and Antonio had a very good idea of what they should do about now. It looked like the night wasn't over just yet.

XxxxX

Some time later, both were curled up together in Antonio's bed, slightly flushed and panting, with a sheet tangled around their legs. Clothes were strewn haphazardly from the door, leading up to the bed, and Lovino was rather glad he hadn't chosen to wear an expensive shirt that evening. The room was dark save for the light that the streetlamps from outside were letting in, but it was about enough to see by, albeit with long shadows.

Lovino settled back against the pillows and breathed out deeply. It was warm and comfortable here, and he didn't have any desire to move at all. Antonio wrapped his arms around him and pulled him flush against himself again, but this time the movement was much more of a hug, being more gentle and loving than passionate. He buried his nose in Lovino's neck, nuzzling for a brief moment, before lifting his head back up and staring lovingly into Lovino's eyes.

"Mmm," Antonio smiled, gently kissing Lovino's cheek. "Wow. You really are amazing, Lovi." His voice was quiet, completely content.

Lovino, unusually, was feeling equally at ease. "I know," he smirked, mostly joking. "I was there."

Antonio giggled. "Oh Lovi. You're such a tease. It's so cute."

"I'm not cute, you bastard," Lovino growled at him. "Get that in your head already."

Antonio yawned slightly and nestled his head against Lovino's neck. "Aww. Adorable. I could stay here like this forever."

Lovino chuckled quietly, more of an answer to Antonio's words than an expression of amusement, and an involuntary smile crept onto his face without him noticing. It was quite intoxicating, being comfortable and warm and satisfied like this. Lovino couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this relaxed. He hadn't intended spending the night at Antonio's but as the Spaniard looked like he'd already fallen asleep, he didn't really have much of a choice. He couldn't go home now and leave Antonio to wake up by himself. Getting up to have a shower or get breakfast was fine if you really wanted, but leaving completely while your partner was still asleep was a no-no for a stable relationship. It tended to either lead to accidental break-up, or your partner developing rising insecurities about the relationship being purely sexual, and Lovino, being as he was, saw this as an easily avoidable waste of time.

So he just pulled the sheet up and settled down among the pillows, careful not to accidentally disturb Antonio, and closed his eyes. It was getting to be fairly late now, and post-afterglow he was feeling reasonably tired, so he suspected that sleep wouldn't come hard. It was just a matter of zoning out into thought and letting himself drift off.

_Hmm. This is nice._

Lovino was woken up as if he'd been hit with a bucket of ice water and his eyes shot open. He hadn't meant to think that at all. It was a completely involuntary admission of comfort and happiness. And that was worrying. Seriously worrying.

For that matter, what had he even meant by it? 'This is nice.' Did it mean that he liked where he was? Unlikely, but possible. Usually he didn't like people in his personal space when it wasn't necessary, but there was something about cuddling with Antonio that actually seemed 'nice'. Then was this relationship actually working? Lovino didn't want that. He was happy with things the way they were, just skipping about between people and doing his own thing. He didn't want the risk and commitment involved in an actual relationship. It meant dependency on the other, work to keep it going, and, as Lovino knew all too well, heartbreak as it inevitably ended. Although he'd never been on the receiving end himself, he knew that it was devastating. He didn't want to go through that.

He glanced at Antonio, sleeping peacefully next to him. His soft curls glimmered in the moonlight, his warm breath brushing across Lovino's body and causing the Spaniard's toned chest to steadily rise and fall. Even in his sleep, there was a small smile playing about his lips and a sense of alluring untroubledness across his face. Did Lovino not want to lose this? Was it just a sense of general physical attraction? Or was he just guilty that his future actions would wipe that smile away? Lovino didn't know, but the sensation wasn't good, and he was worried about it.

It was with these uneasy thoughts floating around his head that Lovino finally fell asleep quite some time later.

* * *

What is this? An update within two weeks? *le shock* Probably 'cos I'm the antisocial type of student who prefers spending nights writing and on skype instead of spending all the money I don't have on getting drunk. But anyways…

Aww, poor confused little Lovi :3

Thanks to all my reviewers/favs/follows :) Tis awesome to hear what you think ('specially as shit goes down in the next chapter, which is mostly written so should be up soon!)


	9. The Heartbreaker

_Two months later_

Lovino paced round his flat, or at least as well as he could pace without knocking into anything. That was the good thing about having an open-plan flat – there was plenty of space for him to pace back-and-forth without having to change direction every two seconds. But even so furniture did get in the way much more than he'd like. He'd probably made about fifty circuits already, not that he was keeping count. What was really annoying him was the fact that he'd been stuck in a loop for about twenty minutes now and his thoughts were wandering in frustrated circles, much like his feet. He knew he should be working at the moment, as he had a sheet of accounts that was supposed to be due tomorrow, but he was highly annoyed at himself, and it was making him restless. Far too restless for work to be of any concern.

Why was he annoyed? Well, he could easily sum that up in one word. Antonio.

Or maybe it wasn't that simple after all. Technically, it wasn't even Antonio that he was mad at. It was himself. He was the one stuck walking up-and-down in frustration, unable to decide what to do, his mind in a war against itself. He wasn't thinking rationally. And some of the thoughts that he was occasionally having, now they were scaring him.

By all accounts, he should have broken up with Antonio long before now. He'd have normally split up with someone once everything was nice and stable, once things had reached a comfortable rut, so to speak. Or at the very least, once the other had fallen in love. It was routine in his relationship cycle, something he was used to doing easily, and it usually took less than eight weeks if he was trying. But not this time. It hadn't happened, and it should have, quite some time ago. Lovino had noticed that point with Antonio pass by well over a month ago, and, for some reason, he hadn't done anything. Not one thing. And then there was the other strange point. Usually, or at least when he was able to, he'd try dating two people at once, if they didn't know each other. He'd done three, on one occasion. But he couldn't face doing that to Antonio. He wasn't sure why. It felt like some sort of betrayal to even think about dating someone else behind his back. There was certainly no reasoning to it, for one thing.

So if it was so inconvenient, why hadn't Lovino made the move to get rid of him?

Did Lovino like the guy? Nope. Heck no. Absolutely no. He was annoying, what with the hugs he wouldn't stop giving, and the constant talking about everything that came into his head – he wouldn't shut up even if Lovino hit him, not that he did. Much. He was completely oblivious and sucked at reading moods; Lovino could probably walk into a room pissed off as hell and throwing chairs, and the Spaniard would only reply with a "How's it going, Lovi? Don't break the chairs~," without bothering to do anything. And he was most certainly an idiot. Case in point; that trick with gullibility that Lovino had pulled on their second date. If brains were dynamite, the bastard wouldn't have enough to blow his own head off.

_But he does like me for who I am, not someone I pretend to be,_ pointed out a traitorous thought at the back of his brain. _There's no falsehood in what he does – it's all genuine. And he's really kind, and –_

_Oh, get lost, _the more cynical part of Lovino snapped back. _The bastard's worthless, I know that. I'm…just waiting for the right point to break up with him is all. Which is soon! And it's going to happen! _He growled vehemently as he paced to prove his point, although who it was being proven to remained to be seen. The only person he had yet to convince was himself, and a halfhearted growl wasn't going to change his own mind. But he wasn't going to argue with himself. No, he was just going to prove that there wasn't another side to the argument.

Did he not want to hurt Antonio? Was that the problem? Well, that bastard's pleading face was hard to ignore, and Lovino definitely preferred him to be happy as opposed to upset, but that didn't mean he cared about his feelings in the slightest! His happy face was just marginally less annoying than his sad one, although it was still pretty annoying. He certainly didn't care if Antonio was happy for Antonio's own sake. The only people Lovino looked out for were himself and Feliciano, and the latter was only because they were brothers. There was no reason that he should give a toss about some idiot he'd dated for three months.

On the other end of the scale, there wasn't a reason why he _shouldn't_ break up with Antonio, either. If he was single again, there'd be no one tying him down, no one constantly texting him with inane comments, no one warm to fall asleep next to at night, no one who'd care if he spent all evening flirting with anyone in sight. Breaking up was…a good idea?

Lovino cursed to himself again. That thought had definitely sounded more like a question that the statement it was. Why was he having so much trouble with this? He'd never had a problem breaking up with anyone before. It had just been 'walk up to their house, knock on the door, short devastating – for them – break up, walk away, find someone new, and repeat'. This new 'indecisive self-angst' part was really knocking the process for six. And he didn't know where it had come from, so he was pissed off at himself.

And then again, maybe he _was _pissed off at Antonio too. The Spaniard seemed to be able to break down his walls, the ones that he'd had up for so long that they were almost as much of a part of him as his gravity-defying hair-curl. Lovino had noticed several occasions when he was being himself around Antonio, where he'd acted without thinking things through, and others – to his surprise and disgust – where he'd felt completely at ease around him. He was completely relaxed when he was with Antonio unless he consciously thought about it, and he would completely be himself. It wasn't something he was used to, as he tended act normally only around Feliciano, which wasn't that often, so it was highly unsettling, and more importantly, it worried him. It wasn't taking much effort on Antonio's part to get him that way, and Lovino was afraid he was beginning to show weakness around the older man. And weakness was something Lovino had vowed never to show. Once someone had seen who he really was, they would cease to care, especially as their love was for a pretender, for a lie. Even if it was fake, the affection was something Lovino had earned himself. And it was something he would never achieve without his walls, which was why they must never come down.

Then there was once, to his ultimate disgust, that he'd smiled when Antonio was around. As in a proper, genuine, smile, not just one of the false skin-deep smiles that he used for charming people and getting his way. No, on that occasion Lovino had been properly content, and in one thoughtless moment he'd let the bothersome emotion break loose. He'd stopped smiling as soon as he realised the stupidity of his action, but that had unfortunately been after Antonio had noticed. Antonio had been quick to hit him with one of the hardest hugs of his life, all the while squealing about how adorable and beautiful Lovino looked when he smiled. Damn that Spaniard was annoying. But, from then on, Lovino had been extra-careful since then to make sure that he didn't smile when he wasn't meaning to, i.e. a fake smile. It never paid to get too comfortable around someone, as that was exactly when they turned around and hurt you. Lovino knew this well, although he hadn't been on the receiving end since he was a child. So why on Earth was he reluctant to cut this connection before it got out of control?

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Well, it looked like he was going to have to convince himself that breaking up was 100% a good idea. It would be relatively simple; just line up his thoughts for once and show that there was nothing in favour of them staying together.

So, what did he have?

Pro: He'd be free again. That was a no-brainer.

Con: Antonio would be devastated – but he didn't care what that bastard thought so that didn't matter, and could hence be scratched off his metaphorical list.

Pro: He had a reputation to maintain by breaking up. He wasn't 'The Heartbreaker' because he was known for letting people down gently and easily. People would talk if this relationship seemed to be lasting too long, and then everything he'd build up would suddenly crash down about his ears.

Con: He'd never see Antonio again – wait, that one was a pro. Definitely a pro. He didn't want to constantly be pestered, hugged, showered with genuine compliments, talked incessantly at. That was annoying as fuck, and to be got rid of as soon as possible. So then, he now had three pros, versus zero worthwhile cons.

Con: …well, he didn't want to admit this one, but they had a pretty damn good sex life as a couple. They just seemed to _work_ together, both on an emotional and an intimate level; it wasn't something that could really be defined. But, then again, it was no problem for Lovino to find someone new, if he absolutely wanted to, although he didn't target people because they were easy. That was just low, plus you never knew what you'd be getting yourself into with one-night stands. Anything from overly-attached freakazoids to an embarrassing trip to the hospital. This was by his guess, anyway, as luckily neither of these had ever happened to him.

Moving on. Pro: …_ah fuck, who cares?_ Lovino's scowl returned once more as his stubborn side took over from the less powerful part that wanted to think things through. It was his life to run. No one got to tell him whether he should or should not break up with someone. He made his own goddamned rules, and he certainly wasn't going to let some annoying little wiener of a conscience boss him around, especially when everything it said was absolute bullshit.

Lovino nodded his head once, fiercely, as his stubborn mind forced himself into a decision. This time tomorrow, Antonio would be single again, and so would he. He was just going to get this over with, simple and easy, like every other time that had happened previously. Then he could just forget that all of this had ever happened, and get back to his own life, with no stupid bastards to worry about. Save for the potato kind that wouldn't leave his brother alone, if he couldn't help it, that was. He was definitely going to stick with girls in the future. It wasn't like he understood them – far from it – but he knew a much more straightforward way of dealing with them, and they sure as hell never got so damned confusing. _Hah. Girls aren't confusing. I never thought I'd say that. _

But that wasn't the point. He needed to cut the cord and get himself out of this hole before he got sucked in. He couldn't let himself get emotionally attached to Antonio, as he'd only end up getting hurt. A proper relationship was too much risk, that was why he did what he did. And he wasn't about to change that now. He _couldn't _change that now.

It was time to end weeks of procrastination, and get rid of the spanner that had jammed itself in the works of his life.

XxxxX

It was ten to four on a Sunday afternoon. A gentle shower of rain was caressing the outside of the windows, the clouds making the day look duller and later than it was. The weather had recently been getting slightly colder, signifying that summer had well and truly passed and it was the time where winter is coming. It wasn't cold, per se, but it was slowly beginning to threaten it for the near future. Not that this would ever have put a damper on Antonio's mood. He liked snow almost as much as he liked the sun. Rain was good too, as plants needed it to grow, so long as it wasn't in incessant droves that wouldn't let up for days on end. That was a bit of a mood-killer.

Antonio chuckled to himself. All this pointless circular thinking about the weather reminded him of the day that he first met Lovino, and their first, if slightly awkward, conversation. He never would have guessed that the meeting would have led to where things were now. Although, he had been right that day when he saw that Lovino wasn't like anyone he'd ever met before, and he was so glad that he'd gone over to talk to him. If he'd have kept to himself, he'd never have known love like this. Insurmountable, unquestionable, unconditional love. A bright, buoyant melody lit up the air as Antonio started whistling, his high spirits let free in the improvised music. There wasn't much of a tune to it, but it was cheerful and upbeat, almost like a freestyle kind of dance. If he hadn't have been sitting down, he might have started moving to it.

The doorbell's short jingle abruptly pierced the air, and Antonio looked up from his magazine in surprise. He hadn't been expecting anyone to visit today. Then again, he liked unannounced visitors. They always brought a nice, unexpected spark into his day. Routine wasn't really his thing, as he tended to do what he felt like most of the time, and repetition got dull quickly.

Antonio, still whistling cheerfully, wandered across his front room and opened the door. Much to his surprise – and delight – Lovino was leant casually against the doorframe, wearing a rain-spattered coat over a dark blue pinstriped shirt and black trousers. Even damp, he still looked spectacular; Lovino always made efforts to look good, and even if he didn't he would still look amazing to Antonio. He was refusing to lock eyes with the Spaniard, though, but that was probably because he was shy about coming over unannounced. Antonio had found that Lovino could be surprisingly shy for someone who was so forward most of the time. So cute.

"Hi, Lovi!" Antonio chirped happily, pulling his boyfriend into a tight hug, ignoring the slight dampness that pressed against his arms from the raincoat. Lovino was better than dampness to him. "What's up? Didn't know you were coming over today."

Lovino scowled, still refusing to meet his eyes, and for some reason, Antonio detected something odd in his manner. Was it…shyness? No, not that…irritation? Uncertainty? Antonio wasn't sure, and he'd never been good at guessing moods anyway, so he just decided to leave it and let Lovino explain what he was here for. Antonio hoped it was just a spontaneous visit, so he could invite Lovino to stay over. They could snuggle up on the sofa, have dinner, maybe watch a movie and end up kissing, et cetera. Just a nice peaceful romantic evening, just the two of them.

Lovino cleared his throat, somewhat awkwardly. He looked like he'd much rather be somewhere else. "Uh, yeah. Not exactly expected. Yeah… So… Well there's no easy way to say this, so I'm not gonna try sugar-coat it or shit."

Antonio's smile dropped. There was something in Lovino's tone of voice that just didn't seem right. It was either ominous or regretful, he wasn't sure. "What's wrong, Lovi? Bad news?"

"For you," Lovino replied darkly. "I'm breaking up with you."

Antonio froze as the words hit him like a ton of ice.

"W-what?" he stuttered. He felt like he'd just been stabbed in the heart, and his breath froze in his throat. He had to have misheard. Did Lovino just say that…he was breaking up with him? It was Antonio's worst nightmare come to life.

"It's over," Lovino repeated, now poker-faced and taut. "We had a good run, but I reckon it's time for me to move on." He paused for a second, then shrugged dismissively. "Well,_ ciao_."

"No…" Antonio responded feebly, but Lovino was already walking away. With practised ease, as if he'd done this a hundred times. Which, unfortunately, he probably had, if the abruptness of his words was anything to go by. He barely even seemed bothered by the fact that he'd effortlessly just shattered Antonio's heart.

Too late, Antonio realised he had to react to have any chance of redemption. He stumbled forward, hand outstretched desperately. "Lovi…Lovi, no! W-wait! Please! Don't…just…please! Come back! Can't we just…work this out?" But Lovino had disappeared down the staircase by the time Antonio's last half-sentence echoed lonelily around the hallway, and in his heart Antonio knew that words would make no difference anymore. Nothing he said could make Lovino come back now. He was gone…forever.

Completely numb, Antonio stepped back into his apartment and shut the door. He felt like crying, but tears wouldn't, couldn't come. His eyes just stung awfully. Each breath stuck in his throat like it was caught in a sharp net, and when they did escape, they were shallow and jerky as his lungs refused to respond in the sudden constriction of his chest.

Desperately, he tried to reach the sofa, just so he could have somewhere soft to collapse onto, but his legs betrayed him before he'd made it ten paces, and he crumpled to the carpet beneath him in a despair-ridden heap. His left leg was twisted under him at an awkward angle, crying silently with pain, but Antonio didn't care anymore. It was nothing compared to that which was now leaking endlessly into him. It felt like his chest was being torn in two, but its contents were already gone, having left the apartment a minute earlier when Lovino mercilessly ripped out his heart.

He just didn't want to believe that Lovino was gone from his life.

Could there have been something that he could have done differently, something that would have made Lovino want to stay? Did he not try hard enough? What had he done wrong that made Lovino want to end things like this? Was…was it his fault?

No, he couldn't think like that. It would torture him if he thought of something that he could have done and didn't. He'd forever be wondering 'what if', drowning in memories and impossibilities, futures that never were and never could have been. It would drive him to complete madness, if this break-up wasn't going to already.

He should have listened. To Gilbert, to Francis, to everyone. He'd trusted the stranger known for maliciousness, not his friends who were looking out for him. What had he been thinking, dating a guy known as 'The Heartbreaker'? He'd been asking for what he'd got, certainly. How could he have thought that things would be different for him? That he'd be Lovino's 'one', and that they'd be together forever? He'd been so blind to it all. Well, he certainly was heartbroken now. Lovino had once again lived up to his well-deserved name, so very effectively. He'd found his way effortlessly into Antonio's heart, mind, soul, and left an indelible imprint there which could never be painted over or forgotten. An irreplaceable image, like an artistic masterpiece stolen from right beneath its beloved painter's nose.

It wasn't something he knew how to face, Lovino being gone. He'd never truly considered the possibility, aside from that one paranoid evening of talking to Gilbert and Francis. He'd thought about it a few times, but it had never sunk in that it was something that actually might happen. Everything else had just been passing whispers and brushed-aside thoughts, not real possibilities. But the harsh reality had turned out to feel worse than any thoughts could have been. Lovino was gone. And for what? Antonio's breath, such as it was, faltered when he realised that Lovino had left without ever giving a reason as to their break-up. He'd been and gone so fast that Antonio hadn't had time to register what happened before he left, let alone quiz him about it. It was almost like he didn't have a reason, or thought so little of Antonio that he didn't think there was need for one. Was that just habit, or was it because Lovino didn't want to talk about it, because his argument would fall apart?

No, Antonio couldn't let himself hope that Lovino had actually loved him. It wasn't going to happen, it had never happened, and trying to convince himself otherwise would only hurt him further. And he couldn't deal with that too.

But the back of his mind refused to listen to what rationality remained, and continued to wonder. Did Lovino actually _have_ a reason for their break-up? His reputation would suggest that no, he didn't. Antonio couldn't see the point in breaking up with someone if there wasn't a reason to. It was a backwards philosophy. If two people liked each other, why should a reputation keep them apart? He sighed hopelessly. It wasn't his decision. There was nothing he could do. Lovino's mind seemed to be made up.

And now his thoughts felt like they were wandering hopelessly in circles. So this was why it was called 'spiralling into despair'. The end of each thought led seamlessly onto the beginning of something else, and the overall effect was inescapable.

Antonio fumbled in his pocket for his phone, intent on calling someone, anyone, so he wouldn't have to be alone, so he'd have at least someone to help him, even if it wasn't his precious Lovino. No, Lovino wasn't his anymore, and he never would be again. It hurt to think about, and even when he wasn't, a dull ache was beginning to take up inhabitancy in his chest. He was never going to see Lovino again, and it was unbearable.

But his phone didn't want to come out easily, and his stumbling fingers nearly dropped it to the floor six inches away. Hurriedly, he unlocked the screen – and was hit immediately by the background picture of Lovino that he'd taken a few weeks previous. Lovino was scowling at the camera on first glance, but on closer inspection, his eyes were shining and the corners of his mouth were beginning to twitch upwards in a smile. Lovino was so beautiful when he smiled. Antonio had only seen the expression once in its full glory, and only a few times to lesser or faked degrees, but it was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. Lovino's eyes glinted like priceless amber jewels, his almost-perfect teeth shone a brilliant white, and there wasn't a single trace of anger or irritation in his face. Antonio had lost count of the time he'd spent just staring at that picture, finding new details to love and admire with every minute that passed.

And now, Lovino was gone, and he'd never see that beautiful smile again. The photo was almost all that he had left.

Antonio stared at it, frozen in place, with all thoughts of his original mission vanished.

Lovino.

_Su_ _pequeño tomate_. _Su_ _corazon, su amor,_ _su_ _vida_.

Gone.

Forever.

And as Antonio sat rigidly on the floor like a statue, the tears finally came.

* * *

A wild plot twist appears!  
As I said, shit was about to go down. And gone down it has.

Poor Tonio…I felt so cruel writing this… It's probably easy to tell that the fluffy part is over, and this is where things have started getting real.

Bonus points to anyone who spots the Game Of Thrones reference in there!


	10. The Memory

Antonio wasn't sure what day it was now, not that he cared much about the futile passage of time. Everything since that awful, devastating moment when Lovino had left his life forever, Antonio had just been suspended in a blur, separated from the rest of normality. Time didn't have a shape or form to it, it just kind of meandered along at its own pace, waiting until each hour was over and slowly beginning the next. He'd been into work…hmm, was it twice? It felt like twice, but he hadn't been sure of the time between the two instances, so it could have been any time after Tuesday. But it felt like so much longer, and it had all been agony.

He hadn't been sleeping well at all, either. Every time he tried, he was reminded of the wonderful nights he'd spent with Lovino in that very bed, and was always reduced to either tears, or longingly pressing his nose into the pillow trying to catch the vaguest remains of Lovino's intoxicating scent, or, most often, both. And eventually he'd either cry himself to sleep, or decide he'd be better off on the sofa, and the latter meant that he would be kept awake anyway as he was too long for it and his feet stuck off the end. Neither way gave him more than three hours of sleep a night. He was pretty sure his eyes looked like he'd been punched swiftly in the face, from the exhaustion that continually drained his body of energy.

To make matters worse, it was impossible to get Lovino out of his head. Every little thing reminded Antonio of him, of the amazing times they'd spent together, and the immense amounts of love that he felt for Lovino. Then the crushing reminder of how it had all meant nothing to the Italian slammed down onto his head like an anvil and drove him either to his knees or to tears. He couldn't find anything that could help take his mind off his lost Italian.

It hurt. It all hurt so much. The grief, the loss, the despair, the betrayal. Antonio wasn't sure how much longer he could take it.

But yesterday, he'd come to the realisation that he couldn't cut himself off from this, or he'd spiral into a ruin of self-destruction. He was halfway down that already. He couldn't cope alone. It had been a text from Gilbert that had helped him to realise this. The German had just been wondering where Antonio had got to, as he usually took part in the trio's text-conversations with frequency, and had suddenly gone silent. But Antonio had taken the point from it, and come somewhat back to his senses. He needed his friends back to help him, now more than ever. He'd just texted them both the day before, shortly after Gilbert had contacted him. His message had been short and to the point. **Hey guys. Can we meet at Gilbert's house at seven tomorrow? It's important.**

But, then again, he should have realised that the serious tone and lack of emoticons and random tildes made it obvious that something was drastically wrong, and he'd got almost immediate replies from both Francis and Gilbert asking what was wrong. Antonio hadn't replied aside from saying that he'd tell them tomorrow, but neither had been convinced as to his welfare. Antonio wasn't convinced that their concern would last. Yes, they were his friends, but he'd spent three months adamantly refusing to listen to them and it had just turned out that they were right all along. Surely they'd just laugh in his face at the amount of trouble his gullibility and stupidity had got him in.

He'd deserved it after all; trusting, defending, and, worst of all, loving a man called 'The Heartbreaker'.

Hence, he was standing outside Gilbert's front door, eyelids occasionally fluttering in exhaustion, and highly worried about what was to come. But somehow, he managed to find the strength to lift his hand and ring the bell, waiting for the moment when a familiar face would appear, even though it was unlikely to be a sympathetic face for long.

To his surprise, when the door was pulled back, it wasn't Gilbert who answered, but Ludwig, who was wearing a damp black tank top that was stretched across his chest muscles, and he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Thin strands of blond hair dangled in front of his forehead instead of being in a gelled haircut so regimented the hairs almost stood in line. Obviously, he'd been caught in the middle of a workout.

"Ah, Antonio. _Guten Abend,_" he said gently. "You are here to see Gilbert?"

Antonio nodded feebly. He still felt drained of energy, and was unable to muster the words required to speak.

A kind, sympathetic expression appeared on Ludwig's face, unusual for the man, and he stepped back to allow Antonio inside. "_Gut._ I was hoping you would talk about this to someone soon."

Antonio blinked and looked at him in surprise as he entered the house, careful not to trip over the mat as the lighting was somewhat darker than usual; the hall lights weren't on "What? How do you know?"

"Feliciano, my, er, my boyfriend-" he blushed slightly, the first time Antonio had seen such an expression on him, "-knows about his brother's…shall we say, state of affairs? He told me what happened between the two of you, or what little he knows of it at least. And since I hadn't heard anything from Gilbert, I assumed that you had yet to tell people and so I kept the information to myself."

"Oh." Antonio felt like he was standing on cotton wool, and his head didn't feel all too dissimilar. Ludwig knew about him and Lovino? He'd say it was a small world, but he was sure he'd known that Lovino's and Gilbert's brothers were dating. It felt like a familiar fact, even though he couldn't remember knowing it before now. Perhaps his brain still wasn't fully connected yet. It was all so confusing to his poor, battered mind.

Ludwig seemed to understand and continued patiently without enquiring further, for which Antonio was grateful. "Gilbert's downstairs in his room, waiting for you. Francis is here, too."

Antonio nodded again, thanked him quietly, and crossed the hall to the door under the stairs that led to the basement.

A voice called him back as his hand contacted the latch. "Oh, and Antonio?"

"Yes?"

Ludwig's face was serious, almost severe, his blue eyes cold like ice. "Don't let Lovino break you. You'd be letting him win, and you can't lose your life to someone like that. You'll make it through this, trust me."

Antonio wasn't sure what to say, so he just nodded silently and opened the door to Gilbert's room. It was relatively bright down there, compared to the dark hallway. Ludwig liked to keep the lights off to save energy if he wasn't in the room, whereas Gilbert didn't care about things like that. His and Francis' voices were audible, and as Antonio descended the stairs he could see the back of the pair's heads as they were sat on Gilbert's sofa; Francis' perfect, soft blond waves, and Gilbert's messy silver nest – quite literally in this case. His little yellow bird was nestled and asleep on top of his head.

The basement was basically one giant room, slightly smaller than the area that the house was built on. Gilbert's bed was in the corner, covered in crisp packets and beer cans from where he hadn't been bothered to clean up, which was always. As a result, the predominant smell in the room was beer and deodorant, with a hint of socks, which was why Ludwig always insisted on the room's door being shut. A large plasma-screen TV was hanging off the wall, in front of which stood several gaming systems and a pile of games, most of which were open and showing the wrong discs inside. The TV screen was showing the tail end of a football game, but no one was really paying it any mind; it was more for background noise. Francis especially wasn't into sport.

As both Gilbert and Francis had their backs to him, Antonio realised he had to speak up, and swallowed down the lump in his throat. He'd never found it difficult to speak to his friends before. Nevertheless, he was here now, and he really should talk to them, otherwise the pressure in his bottle of emotions was going to reach breaking point. "Uh, guys?" he said quietly.

The two heads whipped around as though a gun had just gone off. Gilbert grabbed the remote, shut off the TV and vaulted over the sofa to envelope Antonio in a back-slapping hug – a 'bro-hug', as he called it. Antonio leant into it, glad to have some form of contact after four days of isolation, save for work, which didn't count. It wasn't Lovino, and it never would be as good, but it was highly welcome; a pocket of warmth in his flash-frozen life.

"Man," Gilbert breathed, releasing the embrace and holding Antonio at arms length, a concerned expression on his pale face. "We were wondering where you'd gone, as you, like, went out of contact since Sunday or something, and then you turn up here looking like death. I mean…shit, man. What on Earth happened to you?"

_Look like death? _Antonio didn't look like death, did he? Although…he hadn't been sleeping well at all, he couldn't remember the last time he'd brushed his hair, and the clothes he was wearing were ones he'd picked off the floor. As he glanced down at himself, he saw that they were covered with wrinkles and marks. He hadn't been eating much lately, either – his appetite had almost completely vanished in the last few days, and what he did eat, he could rarely stomach. Perhaps Gilbert did have a point.

Antonio swallowed. He had to be strong. No need to break down. Just tell the guys calmly what had happened, and they'd have some sound advice on what to do. "Y-you were right, you guys. I…I…" All at once, his resolve failed and he dropped heavily to his knees. Wet streaks trailed down his face. "Lovi broke up with me!" he wailed hopelessly, and curled up in a sobbing ball.

He vaguely heard Gilbert exclaim, "oh…shit," but it was hard to tell. There was a strange roaring in his ears.

Suddenly, there were arms around his shoulders. "Oh, _cheri_. _Mon Dieu_." Oh. It was Francis, giving him a hug, or as best as he could considering the angles the two were at. It was stupid of Antonio to get his hopes up thinking it was Lovino hugging him. The Frenchman gently stroked his arm, prying his arms from around his knees and pulling him into a soft hug. "Antoine…when did this happen? How long have you been suffering like this?"

Gilbert's voice was also unexpectedly next to him, and there was another disembodied hand touching his shoulder. "Yeah. Fuck, you can't just go hiding this kind of stuff, man."

"Sunday," Antonio spoke from where his head was buried in Francis' neck, but his voice was barely more than a breath. "It was Sunday."

Francis gripped him tighter and rubbed his back soothingly. "Oh, why did you not tell us sooner? _Mon cher_, we're here for you now, don't worry. You'll be fine; we'll help you get through this."

This didn't make sense. They were right; why weren't they making fun of him? Why were they comforting him? Why weren't they saying 'I told you so'?

It was with a sickening mental thud that Antonio realised that, in having Lovino betray his trust, he'd also simultaneously lost his trust in his dearest friends, and he'd forgotten that, in bad times, all that they'd do was be there and support him. He couldn't take it out on them for what Lovino had done, or suspect them, either. He was such an idiot sometimes. More tears spilled from his eyes and into Francis' shirt collar.

He clenched his eyes tighter as the world began to spin about him. Voices sounded above and around him, but they felt funny, like radio static, and there was no way of telling what was said or even who said it. Antonio's chest tightened and his breathing frequency increased as he tried to get much-needed oxygen to his brain; it just wasn't working anymore. He suddenly felt disorientated as he lost contact with the ground beneath him – the solid, dependable ground – and for a moment panicked, until he realised Gilbert and Francis had just picked him up. One pair of hands under his armpits, one holding his ankles.

"Franny, he's barely responding." Gilbert's voice, sounding sharp and troubled.

"_Oui, je sais, je sais_. Just get him onto the couch, quickly now." Francis' reply, tense and urgent. Antonio wasn't sure where it was coming from. Somewhere above him. Then he felt soft cushions contacting his skin and realised he was now lying on the sofa. He opened his eyes again and found a blue pair and a red pair both staring down at him in worry.

He sat up gingerly, waiting for the world to begin spinning again, but it never did. Gilbert and Francis moved and sat down, so that they were on each side of him; Gilbert on the right hand side of the sofa, Francis on the left. Francis laid a comforting hand on his leg and rubbed his thumb against it comfortingly.

"You alright now, Toni?" Gilbert asked. "You want the awesome me to get you a beer or something."

Antonio shook his head. Alcohol wouldn't help in times like this, only make things worse, and he wasn't remotely thirsty in any case.

"Gilbert, beer is not a very comforting drink in cases such as this," Francis chided his friend, before continuing to Antonio in a softer tone. "Antoine, can you tell us what happened? Take your time, it's alright."

Antonio bit back another sob. "I…I don't know. Lovi just turned up from nowhere on Sunday afternoon…he said it was over and it was time he moved on. He didn't even tell me why!" His voice broke on the last word and he couldn't help from crying again. Breathing became hard once again as his throat constricted.

"Hey, hey." Francis slipped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him into another hug. "Shh, it's ok. But, and I'm sorry to have to tell you this, Antoine, but it is entirely probable that Lovino didn't _have_ a reason to break up with you, save for continuing his own sick reputation."

Antonio howled as Francis confirmed his worst fears. He'd just been played, taken advantage of, and deliberately broken as if by a malicious child. It was the worst thing he thought that could have happened to their relationship, and he'd never have wanted to get into this kind of situation in the first place. And yet somehow he had; pulled in by Lovino's field of perfection. A horrible notion struck Antonio as he thought this. Gilbert – no, was it Francis? – had said that Lovino had been so often said to be perfect that it was likely he was just faking it. Was it possible that Lovino had been acting the whole time they'd known each other, that Antonio had fallen in love with a completely fake person? Had the entirety of their relationship been a lie?

Francis gently touched him on the shoulder, breaking the spiral of chaotically despairing thoughts and causing Antonio to look up sharply. "_Cheri_, talk to us. Don't just let things build up in your head if you're worried. We want to help, and we will never judge you for what you think."

"Unless, yanno, it's like racist or shit," Gilbert added unnecessarily. "But don't worry, we know you aren't gonna say stuff like that. Go on."

Antonio was silent for a while, thankful his friends were patient enough to let him find the words for himself. It wasn't as though he was scared of the question, though. No, it was the answer that terrified him. And the worst answer was probably the most likely one. But eventually, he exhaled, and spoke quietly. "Was the whole of our relationship just a lie? You said back when I first moved here that Lovi tended to put on acts so he can be with someone. I should have listened to you guys when you said that."

"What did I tell you, huh?" Gilbert scoffed. "Don't trust that dickhead."

"Gilbert!" Francis snapped back, eyes flashing.

The silver-haired man hung his head. "Sorry. Wasn't thinking. But…I dunno, really. I'd say, at worst, only half of the relationship was a lie. I mean, stuff you said was real, right?"

Antonio nodded cautiously, fearful that words would set him off crying again. After all, Gilbert had pretty much confirmed the worst again. It had all been one sided; his love had never been requited. Doomed forever to love someone who only considered him a toy. And a used, worthless toy at that.

"Gilbert!" Francis snapped again. "That was _not_ tactful in the slightest."

Gilbert rolled his eyes, but it was clear he wasn't really angry, just hopelessly frustrated. "Fine. You want truthful analysis? Well, I knew Lovino – the real Lovino – a bit, so if you like I can tell you how close to that you got. Happy?"

Francis just frowned. "Better than what you were saying a minute ago, but Antoine is probably not going to like-"

"Tell me," Antonio interrupted him, quietly, but firmly. He didn't look either of them in the eye, just stared at the floor like it was trying to hypnotise him with its scuffed wooden-ness. "Tell me. I want to know. I'm just going to wonder otherwise. What was Lovi like?"

Gilbert blew a terse breath through his teeth. "Well…was he irritable?"

Antonio nodded. "But I didn't mind. He was just honest about when things annoyed him, so I didn't have to worry if I was."

Gilbert frowned, his expression for a second a mirror of Francis'. "Ok. Was he always swearing, or was it just occasional and he apologised after? Oh, and I'll stick insulting in with that category too."

Antonio thought to himself for a moment before answering. "At first it wasn't very often and he always said sorry, but later he just tended to do it. Insults too, but he never really meant them in a bad way."

This one caused Gilbert to raise his eyebrows. "Right…Then, was he charming? Yanno, nice and polite and complimentary and that."

"A bit, yes. Well, polite a lot at first, but not so much complimentary."

Gilbert was chewing on his lip now, his expression thoughtful. "Right. Ok. That wasn't quite the set of answers that I was expecting. Weird." He noticed Antonio's quizzical expression and elaborated. "Well, I was expecting 'No', 'No', 'Yes', as your answers to the questions I just gave you, and instead I got 'Yes', 'Increasingly yes', and 'A bit'. And, to add to that, he seemed pretty genuine that one time at Arthur's place when he ran into us. Which, based on a few key attributes, makes me think – but don't quote me on this – that you got the real thing. Most of the time at least. Which makes no fucking sense if you ask me. He's a rather dislikable character; why'd he want to chat someone up like that?" Antonio privately disagreed with this last sentence, and was trying to stop himself from feeling happier at Gilbert's deduction. Whether Lovino had been himself or not was irrelevant to his current situation. Well, it should be, but his heart felt like it wasn't.

"What I think is most likely," Francis said, "is that Lovino's real personality, with a few kinks ironed out, fits quite well into what you'd like, so he just used that to his advantage. It's probably what kept you together for a while. There is an alternative explanation which means he actually did like you and was comfortable with himself around you, but it's not likely at all, and you can't think that anyway, as it'll just hurt."

Gilbert stroked an invisible beard. "Man, are we getting philosophical up in here. I'm gonna get myself a thinking beer. Hey, that rhymes! Kesese!"

"It's what happens if you try analyse something," Francis sighed, as Gilbert stood up and wandered over to the fridge in the corner, which was mostly full of beers. "I mean the philosophy, not the thinking beers. Or the rhyming. It's interesting to think about, but it's never going to solve any of our problems. Unfortunate, I know. Yet that is life."

Gilbert plonked himself back down on the sofa and cracked open the can with a loud snap, before taking a hearty mouthful of its contents. "Hmm. Life sucks, huh?"

"Not all of life," Francis disagreed. "But that isn't really the point. We aren't here to discuss the properties of life and what it does for us. We're here for Antoine." He turned his head and looked carefully at Antonio. "Are you feeling any better?"

"Not really," Antonio admitted. "It just hurts so much. I don't think it's going to just go away just like that." He sighed and returned his gaze to the floor, as if it would hold some answers for him. "If it ever does at all. I'll never be able to forget him, that's for certain. There's not going to be anyone who comes close to replacing what he gave to my life, ever. I guess a part of me is always going to miss him, however fake or real our relationship was. But it's now just going to be a memory, a dark, bittersweet memory that's going to hurt just to think of."

Francis and Gilbert exchanged worried glances. "C'mon, Toni," Gilbert said uncertainly. "It'll be alright, you'll see."

"Maybe," Antonio answered reluctantly. "But I doubt it." He straightened up from his floor-examining position and fell back against the sofa cushions, closing his eyes for a second. "Hey, guys? Can we just chill for now? You know, so I can get it off my mind for a bit."

Francis smiled. "That sounds like an excellent idea, _cheri_. Distraction therapy can often be more than helpful. What do you want to do?"

Antonio shrugged. "Don't mind. Whatever you guys like."

"Drink a fuckton of beers and piss West off?" Gilbert suggested, grinning and slugging another large mouthful of his beverage.

All three of them laughed at this, even if Antonio's laugh was a little quiet and hesitant. It felt good to laugh, though, Antonio thought to himself. He hadn't been happy since Lovino broke up with him, but this was the first time where he'd actually thought he had a chance of making it through this without losing his mind.

"Gilbert, all three of us have work tomorrow," Francis smiled. "I don't know about you – well, actually, I do – but Antoine and I are responsible adults who don't show up to work drunk or hung over."

"You're a spoilsport, Franny," Gilbert grinned and aimed a mock-slap at Francis' head. "Fine. Drink a little and play cards?"

Francis raised his eyebrows suggestively. "Ooh. Strip poker? Count me in! Ohonhonhon."

Gilbert's hand met his foreheard with a loud slap, but his grin was still visible behind his hand. "_Normal_ poker, Franny! Or Cheat. Cheat is frickin' awesome. Or Ring of Fire, but you guys don't wanna get drunk."

As the other two good-naturedly debated, Antonio smiled to himself. It was a small smile, but the point was that it was there. But while his friends were always going to be there for him, he still had a long way to go before he was anywhere close to being over this.

* * *

Woot! Didn't intend uploading this for a while yet, but I've been on a writing kick. Got another story (well, two) in the works, but I don't tend to publish till I've got an entire storyline, so I don't shelve half-done fics. I seem to have far too much time for writing considering my professors are trying to pile on the work. Yay!

Gilbert's 'thinking beers' remind me of that Family Guy episode where Peter goes "Carter! Hand me my thinking grenades!" and proceeds to think while chucking live grenades out the window.

What does Lovino think? You'll have to wait and see.

Thanks to followers, fav-ers, reviewers, awesome as you are! If I still have as much time as I do now, I was thinking of doing a request one-shot for review 50 (if I get that many).


	11. The Denier

Antonio sighed quietly to himself as he tied the green apron around his waist. He really wasn't in the mood to work today, but then he hadn't been for over a week. Ever since Lovino broke up with him, really. He'd just been feeling completely numb, like he'd been given a slight overdose of local anaesthetic, but the only thing that could get through the barrier was a dull, irreversible sadness. It meant that he hadn't been in the mood for anything, even the things he used to love. Except, of course, for seeing Lovino, but that was impossible now. Antonio missed him so much it hurt. But Lovino wasn't answering any of his calls anymore; it was like he suddenly hated him. Antonio wished there was a way to turn back time, for them to return to the way they had been. He'd been so happy, and he was sure that Lovino had been too; he just hadn't been showing it willingly.

Why had Lovino got rid of something that had been making him happy?

"Antonio?"

Antonio blinked, not realising he was being addressed until the concerned face of his co-worker swam into view, framed by long brown hair pinned back by an orange flower barrette. Elizabeta Héderváry was a friendly Hungarian woman who worked part-time at the Two Arches to supplement a singing career. She and Antonio had immediately hit it off, with their friendship being aided by their mutual friendship with Gilbert, and the first few days had been spent exchanging stories of his past crazy antics. Antonio had seen his silver-haired friend do some pretty insane things, but some of the things that Elizabeta had seen him do just were beyond anything. She'd taken part in some of them too, but that had been some time and she was past that thrill-seeking stage now. But, she was one of the nicest people Antonio knew, and a pretty good listener to boot.

She smiled sympathetically at him. "You ok there?"

Antonio sighed, not particularly wanting attention. "I just don't feel up for much today."

She laid a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "It's Lovino again, what's bothering you, isn't it?" Elizabeta knew all about his situation – once she'd heard from Gilbert that the two were dating in the first place, she'd wanted to know all the details. And in the happier times, Antonio had been more than glad to give them to her, most of them at least. There were a few events that were too explicit for recounting, and these most recent events he'd been a bit more reluctant to divulge. She'd been a bit less pushy than Gilbert and Francis on her opinions about Lovino being 'The Heartbreaker', though. Antonio had been glad of it at the time, but now he wished she'd warned him more too.

"Yeah," Antonio replied vaguely, but didn't expand further. More and more he was tending to keep his thoughts to himself, and he had lost all interest in talking to people about his problems. It wasn't as if it was going to do any good, after all.

Elizabeta patted his shoulder. "It'll be ok, Toni. Love is tough, but you've got to keep moving through it if someone screws you over, right? Don't be down too much – it means he's got to you and then he wins, right? And don't let him win. It's what he wants."

_That's what Ludwig said, too, _Antonio thought. _But I'd do whatever Lovi wants, anything at all, to get him back_. Out loud, he said, "I suppose. I'm trying, but it's just really hard."

"It will be," she nodded, "but if-" She broke off abruptly, noticing that their boss was staring hard at them, and then glancing meaningfully at the patient customers in front of the counter. "Oh damn. He's going to have my head if I don't get back to work. Try to keep your spirits up. If you want to talk after work, I'm here for you, ok?" She turned quickly and crossed to the glass-fronted counter, swiftly addressing a petite lady holding a sleeping toddler who was first in line.

Antonio sighed, but inwardly was slightly relieved as he got started on some cleaning. He knew it helped to talk about things, but that was all that Francis – and to a lesser extent Gilbert – were persuading him to do lately, and it was painful and emotionally draining. It really didn't do what it was supposed to, and Antonio was dreading every time that it happened. Plus, repeating the same things over and over again didn't seem to have the profound effect it was rumoured to, and Antonio was losing what little hope he had left. Lovino was all he cared about now, and the Italian was lost to him. All except for the most bittersweet of memories, and the photos that were too painful to look at. It had been over a week, and nothing was feeling any better, not even a little. He still couldn't sleep at night from missing the warmth in the bed next to him, and his heart still ached for a missing piece he couldn't have back.

"Two large cappuccinos, please, Toni!" Elizabeta called to him from her place by the counter, in front of which were now stood two middle-aged women who were clutching their handbags like lifelines. "And if you could tell the guys in the back to get started on the bases for the lunch rush, it'll save us some time in a bit."

Antonio blinked and glanced at the clock on the wall. How was it already half past ten? He could have sworn that it was only nine a few minutes ago. Time hadn't been going past that fast recently; it had been doing its best – and very effective – impression of a lead-laden snail for the past week or so. Yet, all of a sudden, it became fast again. It was so weird sometimes. But, shaking his head, he got to work on Elizabeta's tasks, then returned to the cleaning.

"Antonio?" A voice snapped him out of his absorbing thoughts a few minutes later. But it wasn't Elizabeta's kind and melodious voice this time; it was the harsh bass tones of his boss, a portly man in his fifties. He wasn't the owner of the cafe, only a manager, but he acted as if the place had been in his family for generations. He'd been nice for the first couple of weeks that Antonio had known him for, but he'd soon settled down into a pattern of strictness and bureaucracy once the novelty of a new employee had worn off. Thankfully, the other two managers were much more good-natured, but it was Antonio's bad luck that this guy was in charge today.

Antonio glanced up from the coffee machine, which he was currently attempting to refill with beans without spilling any on the floor. "Uh, hi, sir?"

His boss grunted. "Yes. Can I have a word?" He gestured behind him to the back room door.

"Sure." Antonio placed the half-full bean jar on the work surface behind him, and followed his boss into the office behind the stockroom with a sense of foreboding. A private word was never a good thing in business terms. It was either a backroom deal, or something was wrong. And no one ever wanted to let Antonio in on a backroom deal.

He had no idea how right he was. Once it was just the pair of them in the office, his boss's expression took on a very serious tone. "Antonio," he began, folding his fingers together in front of him. "We need to talk about your recent performance levels. In the last week, your performance has taken a nosedive. Actually, a nosedive would be putting it lightly. Your productivity level seems to have jumped off a building. You've been mixing up orders, making errors in recipes, staring off into space. And it hasn't just been one day, no, it was constantly, all of last week. It's just not professional, Antonio, and it's got to stop. If I don't see an improvement by the end of the week, I'm afraid I might have to let you go."

Antonio bit his lip and tried to keep himself from looking too panicked. This was not what he needed. In fact, if he lost his job, it would be the final nail in a coffin that would have him sat in bed all day sobbing and clutching a pillow. Work was the only thing that got him out of the house, and he needed this job to pay the rent. He couldn't end up heartbroken _and_ homeless. "Uh, sir, you see, the thing is that recently-"

He was quickly interrupted. "If it's anything but a grievous family bereavement or serious financial trouble, I'm not interested. Trivial issues are not extenuating circumstances. I'm afraid this is a business, and poor performance cannot be tolerated."

"But-" Antonio tried to protest, but to no avail.

"You have until Friday," his boss concluded ominously, and stalked from the room before Antonio could say another word.

It was all Antonio could do not to break down on the spot and cry.

Work was his last lifeline. Even though it didn't have the spark to it that it did when he first started, it was the only place where it felt like he had a purpose anymore. It was somewhere to go every day, somewhere that got him out of his house and talking to people instead of forever pining for his lost love by himself. Somewhere that stopped the days from turning into a monotonous blur. And it was one of the few distractions he had left. Everything else had become impossible to do for more than five minutes at a time, whereas, at work, he had set tasks which he had to complete. It wasn't fun, but it helped, as it gave his mind and hands something to do, even if he was almost always thinking about Lovino at the same time. Mentally, it was much more healthy for him. He couldn't lose this last place now. He'd have nothing left.

A sudden realisation hit Antonio at this point. If he lost his job, it would prove something else – that Lovino held enough power over him to completely destroy his life, even through he was no longer in it. Yes, Lovino had been everything to him, but Antonio distinctly remembered having things in his life that weren't him, too.

And this realisation came with a burst of resolve.

Lovino had broken him, and his heart most of all; this Antonio knew. But Ludwig and Elizabeta were right. However much Antonio wanted to give in, and just long for and chase Lovino forever, he couldn't. That would be letting him win. And he couldn't give Lovino that satisfaction. The Italian had probably had enough of a laugh over Antonio's devastated face last week.

No, Antonio was going to move on. It wouldn't be easy, he knew, and it would take a long time, but he was going to try. He was going to work harder at his job, and his manager wouldn't be able to fire him. He was going to get back into his hobbies; play guitar more, buy another few window boxes and grow more plants, see if he could invent a way to make churros even more delicious.

And eventually, perhaps, he could reach the point where he could look at a photo of Lovino and smile at the amazing times they'd had together, instead of dissolving into inconsolable, desolate tears.

This last thought brought an image to mind, an image of Lovino's face, and without realising it, Antonio had looked directly at it. He could still see Lovino's beautiful eyes; so deep, so mysterious, so hypnotising. He could see all he had ever loved in those eyes, and everything he had now lost. Those were the golden eyes that would never leave him. The face he would always love. The man he would always long for, and never again be able to have. In less than a second, his new-found resolve crumbled to pieces as a hammer of sorrow smashed headlong into it. Antonio brought both hands to his face and closed his eyes, feeling warm tears cascade down his face, a familiar feeling now. He wanted to see Lovino, to hold him in his arms, even just to talk to him for a few minutes, and he wanted it so badly it felt like his chest was being strangled.

He couldn't repress it. It was just too difficult. Should he call again? He'd tried calling before, and texting, and email, but Lovino hadn't replied to any of them. And the thought of going to Lovino's house utterly terrified Antonio. There had to be _something_ that he could do, right? Right?

Antonio buried his face in his arms, trying to cut short the futile thoughts and stem the flow of tears before one of his co-workers came in and saw him in such a state. He'd get fired for sure then. He wished he still had Lovino to rely on if things got bad.

Antonio missed him so much.

And on second thoughts…maybe moving on wasn't going to be so easy after all.

XxxxX

Lovino yawned as he wandered into his apartment, throwing his briefcase onto the sofa disinterestedly. It wasn't as if it had anything important in it. Or as if he'd done any work today. His mind just hadn't been concentrating on it. Though he certainly _hadn't_ been thinking about his ex-boyfriend. Brooding over that bastard was just going to cause needless trouble, and that was why Lovino certainly was _not_ doing so. He'd almost completely forgotten about that idiot, for one thing, and it wasn't as if he wasn't able to move on. He'd had a date the night before last, for one thing, and it had gone well. Not great, mind you, but well enough. It wasn't as if he'd kept zoning out and ignoring his date because his mind wouldn't stop entertaining thoughts of Antonio. Nope, things had gone well. Nothing to improve upon in his life, outside of work. Everything was fine.

Speaking of his date, he probably ought to call her. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, remembering it was still on silent after a meeting earlier. It wasn't often that they had meetings at work – Feliciano could neither see the point in them or be bothered to work for them, but every so often – usually at the end of every month – one ended up getting organised for no reason, and nothing got accomplished in it. But it required his phone to be off, so no one's pointless speech got interrupted. So Lovino put his phone on silent. Hey, it was his company, or at least partly, and he wasn't going to kowtow to lesser minds. It was a futile and pointless form of rebellion, really, but Lovino found it amusing nonetheless. It was a brief spark of life in an otherwise dull job. He really ought to find more ways to liven up his job a bit.

**[1 voicemail message] **read the screen as he clicked his phone into life.

Lovino scowled. This was exactly why he hated turning his phone off or on silent. It was a pain in the ass having to call people back if he missed it vibrating away in his pocket while he was concentrating on something else. Nevertheless, he tapped the screen to play the message – there was always the off-chance that it might be important.

"_Hey, Lovi…" _The voice paused and Lovino's heart dropped. Antonio. Why did it have to be Antonio? _"It's me. Er, Antonio, that is. Uh…you're obviously busy.…uh…should I call back later? It's just…I miss you. Please come back… I still love you, mi tomate. Uh…well, call me back, ok? Bye…"_ There was a harsh beep, then a robotic voice continued, "_Message received today at four thirty-two pm." _There was a second beep, then the message ended.

Lovino resisted the urge to drop-kick his expensive phone across the room, instead slipping it back into his pocket and growling loudly as his fingers curled into fists.

Stupid. Goddamn. Spaniard. Why couldn't he just let this be? They were broken up now, he should just move on, like a normal person would. Lovino's reputation was 'The Heartbreaker' after all. That did give an ever-so-subtle hint as to how he would treat relationships once they were done. Antonio should realise that that meant once it was over, _it was over_, and Lovino had meant to break up with him. Instead he was phoning up over and over again – this was the fourth message this week – as if it would somehow get Lovino to come running back. Hah. As if that would ever happen. Lovino didn't want to go back to that stupid, oblivious, wonderful, annoying, idiotic bastard in the slightest. He was much happier going back to his normal, flirty ways. Where he had the freedom to do whatever the fuck he wanted. All by himself. No dumbass Spaniards to annoy him.

Bastard had the nerve to sound so sad too. Lovino was annoyed about that, too. It was like he genuinely missed Lovino's company, and he had to be faking that. Who would miss a grumpy, foul-mouthed, tomato-obsessed guy with a reputation for hurting people? And who'd actually want that person back in their life once they'd got rid of him? The fuck was Antonio playing at? He was making no sense, and refusing to let things just be left in the past. If he enjoyed their time together, he should just leave it in his brain as a bittersweet memory and leave it at that. Why wouldn't that bastard just leave him alone like he wanted? Lovino narrowed his eyes, aiming one fist at the wall and preparing to launch an anger-fuelled missile of destruction.

Suddenly, he paused, fists slowly unclenching as he realised just how angry he was getting. This was uncharacteristically strange. Why was he angry? Lovino had never gotten angry over a break-up before. What was so different about this one that it was causing him to want to punch walls? Yes, he was usually irritable, but this was more than that. This…this was rage, and it didn't have a definite direction. He wanted it to be at Antonio, but if he thought about it, it wasn't. It wanted to be…at himself. And he hadn't done anything to be so mad at himself.

He stared out of the window and out at the dull grey-blue sky with a scowl on his face, trying to make something of this strange and confusing anger. Usually he would just delete an ex's number from his phone and ignore all their calls with a smirk and a wave. He wouldn't care that they might occasionally try call him back, and he'd mindlessly ignore it if they did. But now…he was just angry. And it wasn't a normal sort of angry, like he was when he saw his brother with Ludwig. That made sense, that had a reason. At the moment, he wasn't sure at all why he was so enraged by Antonio asking him to call back.

_Because I don't want him asking me to come back because I just might. _

Lovino jolted as the words passed through his mind. _The fuck, brain? I do not want that bastard back. He's just another guy. There's nothing special, or even good, about him, and I'm certainly not crawling back to him. Shut. The fuck. Up. …and now I'm arguing with myself. One of the first signs of insanity. And the last thing that's going to happen is me letting that bastard drive me insane. I'm not giving him the damn satisfaction. This is war now, and I'm going to win it. _

He could easily see how he was going to win, if winning it could be called. In fact, he didn't even need to do anything except banish all these unwanted thoughts and emotions from his mind. It was so simple, it didn't even deserve to be called a plan. Lovino certainly had the self-control and stubbornness necessary to keep from answering anything to do with Antonio, even with all these annoying thoughts telling him otherwise. It was just a little guilt, he decided, nothing more. It was natural. And if he left it for long enough, it'd begin to fade. Eventually he'd just forget about it and everything would be fine.

* * *

Well, someone's not in denial in the slightest.

Relatively short chapter, this. But that's cos all my professor dudes have been like 'Pile on ALL the difficult work!' this week. Evil bastards.

Hang on in there, Toni. Until next time!


	12. The Regretful

It was nearing the end of the third week of Antonio's own personal hell, and he still wasn't feeling great. In fact, he was fairly sure that nothing had changed much in that time at all, not for the lack of trying. Especially in terms of his depressed outlook. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He _was_ spending less and less time spontaneously bursting into tears, but that was more due to an improvement in his own self-control, as opposed to him getting over his relationship.

However, there was something that was worrying him about this latter point, and this was that he found himself not _wanting_ to get over it. On occasion, he'd found himself unable to cry, when thinking through his situation didn't seem quite so hopeless, like when he almost found himself adjusting to a normal activity for a few minutes. And, at that point, he'd shocked himself. He wanted to stay sad. He found he didn't want to calm down about it; he just wanted to keep crying. And he certainly didn't want to get over it, if getting over it meant that he'd feel nothing for Lovino anymore. The Italian, no matter what he'd done, would always be Antonio's love, and Antonio didn't want to see him as anything but this. Crying meant that he still loved Lovino, and thoroughly missed him. Not crying meant that he was starting to recover. And getting over it was the first step towards forgetting and moving on; Antonio didn't want to forget. Half of the best times of his life were moments he'd spent with Lovino, and Antonio didn't want to let those memories fade and die. They were magical, priceless jewels, and, although they hurt to think of at the moment, Antonio couldn't even contemplate giving them up.

He was hoping that they would be less painful with time, though. So he could revisit them.

Besides, it had only been three weeks, hadn't it? Surely Lovino had meant more to him than just three weeks of mourning?

"Cheri, not crying anymore does not mean that you do not love him."

This latest interruption was from Francis, to whom Antonio had just finished explaining the above problem. Although, this hadn't exactly been willingly. Antonio had still been so devastated after the first week that Francis had begun making him come over for 'therapy sessions', or so he called them. Personally, Antonio didn't find them particularly therapeutic. It was just talking his problems over and over, and he didn't like it much. He knew Francis cared a lot, enough to set up such a thing for him, but he really thought that his friend needn't have bothered. But, it was nice to know that he was still cared for, even after all that had happened, and that was why he kept coming.

So, at the moment, it was him and Francis in the latter's front room. The first time, there had been three of them, but Gilbert had got kicked out by Francis within half an hour for being, as the Frenchman called it, 'tactless and irresponsible'. Antonio hadn't been offended by it, and wasn't sure why he should have been, but thought it best to go along with Francis' wishes than to say anything. Gilbert hadn't minded getting kicked out, after all, and Antonio didn't want any more fights between them, especially ones he'd caused.

Antonio shrugged pointlessly at his friend's assessment of the situation. "Doesn't it? The happier I am, the closer I am to getting over it, and that means forgetting and moving on, right? And moving on means I don't love him, because I'm able to be with someone else. We've been through this bit before, I swear." This statement was true, in a way. They'd both spoken so much about the situation that every topic that could be covered, had been covered. Often twice or more, depending on how worried Antonio was about something. And the current subject was something that worried him a lot.

Francis nodded. He picked up a glass of red wine off the coffee table nearby and took a sip, taking his time to savour the taste before he replied. Finally, he swallowed. "_Oui_. We have. And, as I told you before, you don't have to forget someone to be over them or to love someone else."

"But I don't want to love someone else," Antonio murmured in reply, as he too had done before. "I want Lovi. Only Lovi. How can I settle for someone else knowing that?"

"It is possible to love someone else, Antoine," Francis informed him. "You need not _settle_ when it comes to _l'amour_. I know it may feel that way now, but perhaps Lovino is not your one true love. Maybe there is someone else out there, someone who will heal your heart and not abuse the privilege of having it."

Antonio didn't reply. He wasn't sure how to. Yes, he didn't _know_ that Lovino was the perfect one for him, but it sure felt that way, and he'd never before felt anything even close to what he felt for Lovino, despite it being highly unrequited. If this wasn't true love, then he couldn't imagine what the real thing would be like; how powerful it would be. He wasn't sure if that was even possible.

"Besides," Francis added quietly. "it's not really like you have a choice. It's either move on, or be alone for the rest of your life."

Antonio's mouth dropped open. _That_ was a bit below the belt. In fact, it was downright hurtful. Antonio knew he didn't want to spend the rest of his life alone, but putting the feeling in such black-and-white terms didn't work that way. It was far too early to make decisions on those terms just yet. And Francis had chided Gilbert about being tactless.

Francis lowered his gaze, his expression regretful. "Sorry. I did not mean that in such a way. Things like this are never to be dealt with so harshly. We must be patient when dealing with love, especially when we are tangling with its barbed tail end. _Je suis désolé_."

"It's ok," Antonio replied, smiling. He'd instantly forgiven his friend, just like he almost always did. He knew Francis hadn't meant anything hurtful, even if the words had had such an nasty impact on was just a bit tired with the situation.

His companion returned the smile. "_Merci, Antoine_. Besides, it is not as if you need to move on particularly quickly. Returning your life to its normal, happy state is of course the priority, but you need not find a new love immediately. It will take time for your heart to heal and learn to love again, naturally. Eventually, you may find the perfect person for you. It may be soon; it may not be for years. That is unimportant right now, and you should feel no need to settle for anyone if it were."

But, instead of making him feel better and move the conversation forward, Francis's words rang hollow in Antonio's ears. Usually, when Francis said something at least moderately profound, it felt right to hear. Not always helpful, but it made sense. This, however, had a different quality to it, the same quality that Francis's words on true love had had a few minutes ago. It felt _wrong_. "I don't want a new love, Francis. And it doesn't feel right, talking about finding someone new less than a month after me and Lovi have been parted. It's like…betrayal." Antonio's voice caught in his throat, and he had to pause for a second before he could continue further. "I don't want to move on, not now, maybe not ever. It's…it's just too painful."

Francis's expression was sympathetic. "_Cheri_, you cannot possibly think that that awful man is still your soulmate, can you? I know you still love him, but the two are not analogous. After all he's done, can you seriously look into your heart and tell me he's not a manipulative, heartless-"

"Stop it," Antonio said quietly, cutting Francis's words short. "You're wrong. You're all wrong." Antonio wasn't _entirely_ certain of this, but he didn't want to hear what Francis was in the middle of saying. After all, there was a chance that something would begin to ring true, and once the doubt was there, it was only a matter of time before he started to hate Lovino. Antonio didn't want to hate Lovino. No matter what anyone else thought of him.

The sympathy on Francis's face had morphed into concern, and his crystal blue eyes were staring at him like they were trying to access his soul. Neither of the two said a word further in reply; their gazes were kept true and hypnotic, each silently trying to convince the other that they were right, without the added complication of putting things into words. Antonio could see concern in his friend's eyes; he was trying to help, but it was happening the wrong way, and the Frenchman was being too stubborn this evening to listen to what Antonio had to say. Even if he might be wrong.

The two locked semi-glares were halted by the ring of the phone in the hall, and disappeared as both of them realised that they weren't really mad at the other. It was just exasperation on Francis' part, and emotional exhaustion on Antonio's. Neither of them really knew an outlet for their respective negativities, and the constant, go-nowhere sessions were beginning to take their toll, even if both knew it was for a good reason.

Francis coughed slightly, and got to his feet, brushing his golden hair out of his face as he did so. "I should go get that. _Excusez-moi_." Hastily, he headed for the door, anxious to reach the insistent phone before it ceased its chiming.

Antonio sighed to himself as the Frenchman left the room. This was the one thing that Francis and Gilbert could never get him to admit. No matter what he'd done, Antonio could never see Lovino as a bad person, and he hated that the only way Francis and Gilbert thought he could get over their relationship was to see Lovino that way. Sure, the Italian was cold, malicious and deliberately hurtful. But every time Antonio thought of him, he could only see the warm, shy, beautiful centre, not the marred surface everyone else knew. That was what love was, and that would never change, not for all the world. Antonio would let his friends talk, but he'd never truly listen to them.

There was one thing he could be thankful for, though, and that was the reaffirmed security of his job. A few days back, he'd spoken privately to one of the other two managers – one of the nicer, more patient ones – about his situation. Briefly, that was – he hadn't spilled all, or even some, of the details. Fortunately for him, it turned out she had a friend who'd encountered Lovino in a very similar way a year or so ago, and she was very sympathetic to Antonio's plight. Without revealing anything private, she'd spoken to the other managers about it, and they'd agreed to grant Antonio a bit of leniency in the quality of his work until he was feeling better. Antonio had thanked her profusely; his job was meaning more and more to him at the moment. The Two Arches was the only place he went to regularly that Lovino had never set foot in, and so it held no painful memories. It made it marginally easier to kill time at work than it was at home. But Antonio wasn't entirely certain about the benefits of this part. He wanted to kill the time, as it lessened the pain, but the more time passed, the longer it had been since he'd seen Lovino, and the closer this was getting to be just a memory. A month previous, he would have called it frustrating, but now it could only be described as exhausting to him.

After all, nothing good was coming of all this thinking.

XxxxX

On the other side of the town, Lovino strode into his room with the vaguest hints of a smirk playing about his lips. He was quite proud of himself for the way he'd been recovering from all those strange feelings surrounding Antonio, and he'd finally managed to put the Spaniard to the back of his mind. Things were pretty much back to normal now. This way where he belonged, back in the game. In ten minutes he'd be heading out on a date, a normal Friday night activity for him. This was date number five, with the same girl he'd been out with the other week, but he was playing respectful at the moment, so nothing was serious. Yet, of course. The restaurant where he was taking her today was a pretty classy place, and he had to look his best. Not that he didn't always go out of his way to do that anyway. It was a trademark of his; always look impeccable, as impressions and self-image were of paramount importance to what he did.

For a finishing touch to the outfit he was wearing, he crossed to the dresser and opened the drawer where he kept his jewellery, and by that, he meant mostly watches, along with a couple of rings, a necklace or two, and a few pieces that used to belong to his mother that he didn't have the heart to sell. He had quite a few watches, ranging from the cheap digital one he'd bought to wear if he needed to do something dirty, to the collection of polished designer ones, which could co-ordinate with any outfit they were required to. It was one of the latter set that he was looking for now, a shiny black one with intricate golden hands. The problem was, and usually had been, was that while he kept most of the watches in their boxes, he could never be bothered to label them, and so always ended up having to look through half-a-dozen before he found what he was looking for. It was rather time-consuming, but Lovino was still too lazy to do anything about it.

The first three boxes yielded nothing, and Lovino replaced them back in the drawer, thinking for the hundredth time that he should get round to labelling them, or at least have an organised system in the drawer. That was about the time when he noticed the square red box that he didn't recognise, sat next to a ruby brooch of his mother's. Curiously, he took it out, noticing the size didn't fit in with the rest of its drawer-fellows. It wasn't a watch-box, that was obvious from the shape. It was the wrong size too; about the length of his thumb, squared. The strangest thing was that it looked familiar, but he couldn't think of what was inside, or where he had obtained it.

When he lifted the lid, he quickly froze as he recognised the contents. A gold band sat inside, half obscured by shredded white tissue paper and threaded through a chain of silver links.

It was the ring, the one he'd received from Antonio.

Lovino could remember when Antonio had given him it too, clear as day, even though it had been several months ago. For some reason, his mind had deemed the day important enough to keep. Like so many of the days involving Antonio, strangely. He didn't really know why.

_It had been a warm evening, as summer drew itself to a close, and the pair had just returned from the beach. Lovino had been quite annoyed at himself at the time, as he'd accidentally come out of his shell that evening, and had genuinely enjoyed it far more than he had been meaning to. Although what had been so enjoyable about a reluctant splash battle and teaching an idiot how to skip stones was quite beyond him. Especially as one of his favourite shirts had gotten wet – it was an expensive shirt as well – yet he'd still enjoyed himself, and wasn't even mad. It was, for want of a better word, puzzling. This kind of thing had never happened to him before. _

_Then Antonio had dug into the pocket of his trousers and pulled out the red box that Lovino had noticed him attempt to to hide earlier that evening, but decided not to comment on. "I have something for you, Lovi. Here." _

_Antonio quickly pressed the box into Lovino's palm. Lovino had been too surprised to resist Antonio's action, and received the gift without meaning to. He hadn't asked for a present, and half of his act –not that it was much of an act at the moment – relied on being the one to give, not to receive. "The hell, bastard? I didn't ask you to get me a present." _

"_You didn't have to," Antonio replied simply, wearing that genuinely happy smile. "Go on, open it." _

_Lovino raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. Crazy affectionate bastard. Two weeks and he was acting like they were already married or something. At least it proved that Lovino's methods really could be effective, even if it wasn't quite the anticipated effect. Nevertheless, Lovino opened the box and pulled out its contents. He hadn't been expecting what he got, but then again, he hadn't been sure what he was expecting. It was simple, yes, but worn effectively he supposed it had the potential to be stylish. But more than that, it was a gift, and a symbol of the affection that Antonio had for him. _

"_Eh?" he exclaimed without thinking. "What's this for?" _

"_Being you." Antonio had smiled again as he said this, raising a hand and gently caressing the edge of Lovino's face. "I wanted to get you something, something you could keep and wear. So I had a look around, and decided this." _

"_Bastard," Lovino scowled at him. "You don't need to get me stuff." Like genuine compliments, Lovino wasn't good at receiving gifts that he wasn't expecting, and was automatically resorting to his self-defence of annoyance. That wasn't a good sign – it meant that Antonio was starting to get in through his walls. Annoyance and irritation was his first line of defence. It wasn't often that these were bypassed either, but Antonio seemed to be immune to their effect, and this was slightly worrying. _

"_I wanted to though," replied Antonio happily. "Although I have to say, you're worth more than any present I could give." _

_Lovino had blushed at this point, something else he kept involuntarily doing around Antonio, and couldn't do anything about. The Spaniard seemed to mean every word he said, especially with such words, and it had the strangest of effects on Lovino. Something about it was so different to other times that Lovino had heard similar phrases. It was embarrassing, yes, but it made Lovino's heart swell with a strange emotion he wasn't sure about, and with it came a feeling Lovino didn't know all that often – reassurance. He didn't quite feel so isolated, such a pretender. In fact, for the first time in quite a while, he felt accepted. It was an alien feeling, but a nice one, a comforting one. And it was this that led him to willingly return Antonio's advances a few minutes later. _

Lovino stared at the ring, all thoughts of watch-finding forgotten. A gift had never actually meant anything to him before. And this one he'd actually kept too. Usually, if he'd been given something, it would be sold or thrown away at the end of the relationship a few weeks later, but for some reason he'd just shut this in his drawer, as if he was trying to avoid seeing it, but didn't want to get rid of it entirely.

Had it meant something to him, as well as to Antonio? Lovino wasn't sure. But he never kept things without a reason, to avoid his apartment getting cluttered up like Feliciano's, and that meant that there _was _a reason in keeping this. He tried to scoff, to persuade himself that there wasn't; that it had just been an empty gesture in the past, and he was just being paranoid, but his heart wasn't in the derisive action and it came out as more of a pathetic sigh. Lovino scowled, but even that didn't stay long, replaced by an expression of uncertainty.

_Un-fucking-certainty. Again, _he growled to himself as he dropped heavily onto his bed, silver chain still dangling from his fingers. _Whenever Antonio's in the equation, certainty is a long way from nowhere. Why, whenever I think about that _idiot_, does my mind decide that straight roads have gone further out of fashion than 70s' flared trousers? My thoughts just leap around in fucking circles, and every path leads back to __**him. **__He's never far from my thoughts, no matter how much I try to deny it or block it. And yet I can't bring myself to be mad at him. I'm always mad at myself…or sad. Sad that he's not here any more, even if he's more annoying than Feli… Fuck, I miss him. I don't want to fucking admit it, but I do. I miss the way he always smiles at me and is genuinely happy at everything. I miss all those hugs, the ones that make me feel safe and loved, like nothing else has before. I miss the way he sees me for who I am and actually likes me for it. I miss that he's the one person I'm not afraid to be myself around. I wish he was back. I…_

Too late, Lovino realised the truth, the truth that he'd been adamantly denying for weeks.

He was in love with Antonio.

And he'd broken up with him. Deliberately.

"What have I done?" he breathed, transfixed with horror.

Without knowing it, he'd come across his 'one', the legendary person whom he thought was fiction, the one person whose company he actually liked. And he'd taken him completely for granted. He'd thought Antonio was just another worthless person he played his games with, and then he'd thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to him. He'd been so _fucking _stupid.

The ring and chain slipped from his fingers as the tension faded from his muscles, and fell to the floor, almost in slow motion, hitting it with a soft, almost regretful sound. Lovino didn't notice its absence from his hands, though. The only thing on his mind at the moment was the belated revelation that had just struck a hammer-blow to his chest, driving the air from his lungs and causing him to almost collapse onto his bed.

"Fuck…" he whispered, the words barely audible. "What the fuck have I done?" His breath hitched, and before he realised it, the tears that he didn't know he was holding back had escaped down his face in a torrent. It was a sudden release of emotion, and it felt almost like a panic attack; Lovino wasn't sure what to do. It was sudden pain, and it hurt worse than the worst injury he'd known, right to the core of his heart and soul.

He hid his face in his hands, soaking his fingers as he did so, and drew his knees up to his chest. He'd never felt so alone in his life, and he'd spent most of _that_ feeling lonely and second-best, only to be loved as an act. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. This new feeling of hopelessness was taking him over, and he didn't know how to stop it.

"Fuck…" he sobbed again, oblivious to the fact that no one was around to hear him. "Antonio…I'm so sorry. I'm such an idiot and I'm so…fucking…sorry…" Again, words began to fail him. They wouldn't do anything, improve anything. He should be saying this to Antonio, but it was far too late for that, wasn't it? Antonio would have gotten over him, moved on, forgotten about him. And he'd surely hate him by now as well. There was no way that he wouldn't. He'd probably never even open the door for Lovino now, let alone give him ten minutes to explain and beg for forgiveness.

Beg for forgiveness. There was something that Lovino had never done before. Did he even have the strength to do that? He couldn't even remember forgoing his pride for long enough to mutter a proper apology before. Coming out from behind his walls for long enough to explain himself to Antonio was quite beyond him. He'd either just clam up and be unable to say anything, or break down completely and sob his heart out at the mere sight of Antonio. At which point, the Spaniard would just slam the door in disgust. It was, to be frank, completely and utterly hopeless. There was no way that things would end up happily for the pair of them, now that he'd screwed things up so badly.

Lovino seized his pillow in both hands and clutched it to his chest, imagining it was warm and Spanish and hugging him back and smelling of tomatoes and whispering sweet words in his ear to make everything alright. But it wasn't. It never wouldn't be, not now.

He knew he had to do something. But he didn't know what would right this awful wrong. If there _was _something that would bring Antonio back, that would make the Spaniard forgive him for all his lies, all his failings, all his unforgivably cruel actions, then it wasn't something within his grasp.

And it was far too late to do anything, even if it was.

* * *

Ow. So much work lately...

But enough about that. Look who's finally come to terms with everything!  
Where do things go from here...? *dramatic music*

As always, feedbacks are much appreciated. :3


	13. The Indecisive

Lovino sighed to himself, a resigned scowl set on his face. He'd been stood outside the door for at least three minutes now, although it felt like much longer, trying to work up the courage to ring the doorbell. It may have only been a foot away from his hesitantly raised hand, but it may as well have been a mile away through treacle and spikes for all the effort it was taking. It was almost like there was an invisible barrier preventing him from moving, and preventing his thoughts from being anything besides '_Idon'twanttobehere_, _Idon'twanttobehere_'.

His reluctance wasn't entirely without reason, though. He'd never spoken to anyone the way he was about to. He was about to cast off the mask he'd worn for years and tell someone what he truly felt, to submit to their judgement, such as it was. Until now, there had only been lies, and the whitewashed half-lies, and now that he finally had to tell the truth, it was hard, and the prospect of starting to do so was even harder. His instincts were begging him to turn tail and run while he still could, while he still had his strength and his mind. Something told him he wasn't going to make it through this without breaking down, and _that _was something he was scared of doing. It was weakness, and he hated to seem weak, but he had no choice, nowhere else to turn to now. Apart from this, he didn't know what else to do.

With a final breath that was half sigh, half growl, Lovino finally broke through his mental barrier, jabbed his finger forward and hit the little white button. A muffled ring was audible behind the closed white door, shortly followed by hurried footsteps. Lovino rolled his eyes. It didn't matter who it was, his little brother was always excited about receiving visitors. Stupidly excited, in Lovino's opinion, but then, much of what Feliciano did was alien to Lovino. He was cheerful to Lovino's glowering, optimistic to Lovino's cynical, kind to Lovino's insulting. Based on outer personality alone, it was almost impossible to tell the two were related.

Sure enough, Feliciano's curious face appeared in the gap as soon as the door opened, quickly splitting into a wide grin as he realised who it was on the porch. "Hi, fratello! What're you doing here? It's been ages since you last visited! You should come here more often – I don't see you much outside of work except for when you come for dinner, but that's only every couple of months, and I miss you! Lots and lots! Oh, and I made pasta! You should come in and have some, there's plenty spare-"

"Shut up, Feliciano," Lovino interrupted him with a grunt and pushed past into the house before he regretted his decision any more than he was. He'd forgotten how much Feliciano could talk if left to his own devices. Usually there was someone around to interrupt him before he got carried away. But Feliciano at least was used to Lovino's abruptness, and wouldn't be bothered by Lovino's invading his house almost uninvited. In fact, he'd be happy Lovino was coming in.

Feliciano stopped his verbal monologue and followed his brother into the living room, the beaming smile replaced by an expression of curiosity. "Oh? What's up, fratello? You never look this serious unless it's important, ve~. D'you want a coffee, or some pasta? Uh, or tomatoes?"

Lovino shrugged vaguely and sat down on one of the plush leather armchairs. Feliciano smiled, understanding his brother's idiosyncrasies well, and wandered into the kitchen to put the kettle on. It was fairly late in the evening, but he knew that a warm drink could do wonders if someone was upset. And his brother did look upset. Lovino wouldn't have come to visit unless it was important, or Feliciano had begged it, as he was wont to keep himself to himself, only relying on others when there was absolutely no other option. Which probably meant that something was troubling him, something that he didn't know how to deal with and couldn't just ignore or brush over. Feliciano wondered what it might be – things didn't usually outwardly upset his brother, and definitely not to such a severe degree.

Meanwhile, Lovino tentatively settled back against the white-and-red patterned cushions and sighed quietly to himself. Feliciano's place was warm and welcoming, and yet Lovino was far from comfortable. He still wasn't sure about doing this. From what he was thinking, the two probable outcomes would be either Feliciano telling him that it was too late and he should forget about Antonio, or it would turn out that his brother had been judging him behind his back too, like everyone else, and he'd just laugh and tell Lovino that he deserved all of what he was getting. Lovino didn't really like either of these, but no matter how much he thought, he couldn't see a third outcome. Well, he could, but not one that was possible. He still wasn't entirely sure why he had come, but he knew it was a good idea, even if he didn't like it. Keeping everything pent up inside himself was like pumping a pressurised balloon; it would keep building and building until eventually his limit was reached and he wouldn't be able to take it anymore. He needed to talk to someone, to have a fresh mind on the situation, so for once he wouldn't be alone. His brother was the only person who knew Lovino for Lovino, so Feliciano was the only one Lovino could talk to, even if it did just end up with himself being ridiculed.

Feliciano returned with two steaming cups of decaffeinated coffee in one hand and a plate of chocolate biscuits in the other, all of which he placed on the little coffee table before moving it between the two seats. He settled in the chair opposite Lovino and curled up with his socked feet under his body and a warm smile on his face. "Ve~. What's wrong, fratello? You're looking very serious this evening. Did you not like the revamps we were doing at work earlier?"

"Not about work," Lovino muttered in the direction of his knees. Stubborn as he always was – or perhaps it was just out of reluctance – he wasn't going to tell Feliciano anything outright.

Feliciano didn't reply, but leant forward slightly and patiently waited for Lovino to elaborate. Lovino was annoyed by the fact that his brother knew him well enough to deal with the situation in a way that wouldn't annoy him or upset him more. Although, what really annoyed him was the fact that he'd have to take the initiative to speak now.

There was a slightly awkward silence for a time. Lovino's throat was stuck, as if he'd got a rubber ball lodged inside it. It was hard to know where to begin; even though he'd been thinking through scenarios on the drive over, now that it was actually time to say something, all words had deserted him. He sipped the coffee, just to have something to do with his hands, but it tasted unusually bitter and sharp, and the heat stuck like glue in his throat. He put it back on the table quickly, deciding to let it cool down a bit before drinking again. His tongue was probably burnt now.

Finally, he sighed. May as well get this over with, or Feliciano would never let him hear the end of it. "Well, you know Antonio?"

"Ve~," Feliciano mused. "Uh, I don't think…oh! Is he that guy you used to go out with? The cheerful Spanish guy who gave me a churro when we met? I like churros~."

"Yeah," Lovino replied reluctantly. "Well, you know how we kinda broke up a while back? I…I kinda fucked up really bad there."

Feliciano looked at him quizzically, then his expression cleared into comprehension and shock. "Oh…you mean you wish you hadn't broken up with him?"

After a few seconds, Lovino nodded quietly. Here was the admission, saying that he'd made a mistake. Now that he'd done it, it had been easier than he had been expecting it to be, but the worst was yet to come, probably. That would explain why he still felt awful, with his stomach tied in knots and his tapered fingers trembling uncontrollably. He wasn't going to cry though. He'd got through the admission, and it was surely only a matter of time before his eyes would stop stinging, right?

And then Feliciano did what Lovino wasn't expecting; he smiled and reached forward to pat his brother's hands comfortingly. "It's ok, fratello. Don't worry. But can I ask; why did you come here instead of going to Antonio? He's the one you need to be telling this, not me."

Lovino had a feeling Feliciano already knew the answer – he was either just making sure, or he wanted Lovino to admit things out loud to himself. Lovino decided it was best to humour him, for the moment. And, he really ought to say it aloud. "I'm scared," he muttered, but the words had barely fallen from his lips when he knew that Feliciano hadn't heard them, and confirmation came a second later.

"Ve? What did you say, fratello?"

"I'm scared," he admitted, slightly louder this time. Now his eyes were stinging worse – the talking was somehow putting pressure on them and he could feel the tears building up. _Damn it, I'm not going to cry. _

Feliciano stood up and settled on the armrest of Lovino's seat, wrapping one arm around his brother's slim shoulders. "Why?" The bluntness of this question surprised Lovino, and Feliciano must have sensed it, as he quickly elaborated in a gentle voice, "It really helps to talk, you know. I talk a lot, with Ludi, and we don't have many arguments because of it. Tell me about Antonio, _fratellone_. Anything that comes into your head. Get your feelings into words."

Although Lovino didn't like it, Feliciano's words made sense, and it was what he had come here to do. But words were the hard part, words that made sense at any rate. Humility did not come naturally to him, and neither did the honesty and sentiment that came with it. He'd prefer to hide behind his cloak of disdain and slander, but that had got him nowhere with this, and would only make things worse now. The easy way out was no longer possible. Although, he thought he'd taken the easy way out when he'd broken up with Antonio, weeks ago, and that action had quickly developed into the hardest time of his life.

But he'd been silent for long enough now, long enough for the half-empty cup of coffee to have gone cold and unappetising. And if he was forced to sound like an idiot, he may as well go the whole way while doing so. He sighed quietly, and Feliciano rubbed his arm reassuringly before letting him speak. "I don't know what to say, really. He...he's just...everything. So kind, so cheerful, so genuine. There's almost nothing I can fault, really. I can swear, I can be insulting, I can be silent, and he somehow knows what I truly mean and he loved me for who I am, not someone I was pretending to be. He's one of a kind. I never should have given him up. I didn't even have a reason for it. If anything, I was scared again – scared of what I was feeling. I've never known anything like it before, Feli, and it scared me, so I did what I always do and I ran from it instead of realising what it was. I thought I'd get hurt if I stayed, but instead it's the running that's hurting me." His eyes were stinging even more by this point, and it was hard to stop his voice from cracking as he continued. "And now it's too late. I fucked up; I fucked up so fucking badly, and I don't know what to do. There's no way that I can go talk to him. I betrayed him far too badly to ever face him again. He loved me, and I didn't realise I loved him, and I broke his heart just for the sake of some stupid fucking reputation and my own fears of what could go wrong. And the worst thing is, I knew what I was doing. I knew that I was going to hurt him. He probably hates me now, and he'd never take me back even if I tried." With these last few words, his voice well and truly broke, and sorrowful tears began to stream down his face.

Feliciano shuffled closer on the armrest and tried his best to pull Lovino into a hug. "Don't cry, fratello. It's going to be ok."

"No it's not," Lovino denied through his tears. "It's really fucking not. He'll never take me back now."

"You don't know that," Feliciano replied.

"Yes, I do.' Lovino's words were barely audible by this point. He'd completely managed to talk himself out of believing that there was any hope for their shattered relationship over the last few days. If there was anything he'd accomplished by this point, it was accepting that the worst was going to happen. Because, after all, it probably was going to happen, and in that case, either Lovino would be right, or less likely, things would go better than expected. So, in a way, if he thought the worst, then at least something went well.

"You don't," Feliciano persisted. "You don't know what Antonio thinks of you any more. It's actually probable that he doesn't hate you at all. It's really hard to suddenly hate someone you love, even if they did hurt you. You can try, but it'll just be a load of lies and secretly you'll love them all the same."

"He hates me," Lovino said flatly.

"You don't know that," Feliciano repeated firmly.

Lovino just shook his head.

Undeterred, his brother tried again. "You don't. Really. You love him right?"

Lovino nodded. He'd already told Feliciano that – what was the point in repeating it over? Well, unless it was an exercise in humility, or humiliation.

"And you're going to tell him what you told me, right?"

Lovino had to pause for that one. Yes, he'd like to say that he intended to tell Antonio, but it was much easier said than done. What he'd done to him would be so hard to admit, and telling Antonio what he felt would be even harder, as he had no way of guessing his reaction, and was scared because of it. But explanation was the only way that any of his actions would ever make sense to Antonio, and the Spaniard deserved the truth, all of it, to make up for all the lies Lovino had subjected him to. It wouldn't _completely_ make up for it, but it was the least of what Antonio deserved. "Yeah, I guess I have to."

Feliciano nodded and continued. "And he loves you, right?"

"Doubt it," Lovino said quietly, chest clenching like a vice with the words. He'd thought about it before during his inevitable musings, but it always hurt to think that Antonio hated him.

"Hmm," Feliciano frowned, not convinced. "Are you sure? Has he tried contacting you since you guys broke up?"

Lovino laughed, but there wasn't a trace of mirth in the hollow sound. "Are you kidding? The first few days he wouldn't stop calling me. I must have ignored about fifty billion calls and twice as many texts." His face fell. "He stopped trying after about two weeks, though. I guess he realised I didn't love him. He's stopped caring. And he probably now hates me for it, 'cos I kept ignoring him. But…but that's different now, damn it!" The tears he'd been holding back, which had only recently stopped falling, gently began to escape his eyes again. "I don't know what to do, Feli! I can't tell him!" he told his brother in despair, collapsing into Feliciano's chest and sobbing.

"Ve~," Feliciano said thoughtfully, as he put his arms around his older brother, but then he always said that. Lovino wasn't entirely sure what he'd been expecting his brother to do. Laugh, yes. Say he deserved it, certainly. But after that, he wasn't sure whether he'd get kicked out of the house, or if Feliciano would surprisingly come up with some profound advice, or if he'd just been wanting comfort from the only person who had the slightest chance of giving it to him. Thoughtful silence, he didn't know how to deal with. Not that he knew how to deal with much at the moment. His only ways of dealing with things so far in his life were various forms of anger and cowardice – he either yelled at them, hit them or ran away from them. It had all worked...up until Antonio.

Lovino was just lucky he was his own boss, otherwise he'd be being complained at that his performance at work was severely down. No one dared complain to him anymore, though, after half a dozen people got shouted at, three guys had gotten fired, and one had broken down in tears. Thinking about it, he just felt like a tyrant. No one really liked him there, so they got back at him in other ways; passive-aggressive ways, perhaps, but they added up to make his life miserable. No wonder he'd been having such an awful time at work lately, treating people like that. And now he was on the receiving end of the rejection and pain.

After several minutes of silent tears and spiralling thoughts from Lovino, and what he assumed was Feliciano's version of thoughtful contemplation in the midst of comfort, the quietness was finally broken by the younger sibling. "Ve~, so you want to talk to Antonio about this, right? Tell him the truth, try to get him to accept you back?"

"_Sì_," Lovino nodded tearfully. "But he'd never do that."

"Don't be so sure, fratello," Feliciano disputed. "If you love someone, you'll forgive them no matter what, and you'll trust what they say. Yes, you've done some bad things, but you deserve a second chance. And if you truly mean what you say, I think Antonio will realise that."

Lovino sniffed. "You really think so?"

"Of course! Love is forgiving, fratello. You just don't know that yet. Get Toni to teach you."

"_If_ he takes me back," Lovino replied pessimistically. "Forget it, Feli. I can't do that! It took me ages just to work up the courage to talk to _you _about it, and you're my brother, for fuck's sake! I'll never be able to talk to Antonio about it, no matter how much I want to. I'm just too fucking scared, I'm a fucking coward. You know me, I run away from relationships, not into them, damn it! And it's so much harder to talk about something than it is to stay silent. Even if I do say something, there's no way in hell he'll forgive me for it. I don't even deserve forgiveness. I fucked up so badly. The one person who likes me for who I actually am, not just some half-falsified character, and I don't realise it and treat him like shit. I don't deserve him back, and he'll know that." Saying his worst fears out loud hurt a lot worse than just thinking them, somehow, like driving a knife through his chest and straight up the back of his throat cavity. He didn't like imagining Antonio hating him, and saying it aloud made it seem so much more like it was happening already. If he hadn't already been crying by this point, that would have started him off. Even so, the tears were escaping down his face like he'd just stepped inside out of a storm.

Feliciano squeezed him tightly from his precarious position atop the plump leather armrest in his best attempt at a hug, almost falling on top of his older sibling. "Don't worry, fratello. It'll be ok, you'll see. If Toni really loves you, you'll be together. Like me and Ludi."

"I hate that stupid potato bastard, I don't know why you stick with him," Lovino grumbled, but there was, for once, no venom in the words. He was just going through the motions at this point; he didn't feel anything against Ludwig but envy for his happiness.

Feliciano seemed to sense this, as he didn't chastise Lovino for the insults. But he was silent for several minutes, with an unreadable face, which worried Lovino. Feliciano was thinking, and that was rare. After several minutes, his expression fell slightly and his tone became more serious, which, seeing as how it was Feliciano, meant that his words were _really_ serious. "Well, in the end, fratello, it's your decision to make. I can't force you to go talk to Toni. But, if I were you, I'd try. You've nothing to lose by going to talk to him. If he shuts the door on you, at least you'll have your closure. If he tells you it's over, you'll know why. And if he takes you back, it's all been worth it~." He gave Lovino a short hug at this. "But, if you don't go talk to him, you'll never know what could have happened, which way it could have gone. Sure, you'll move on, find someone new, maybe in time even fall in love again. But, in the back of your mind, you'll forever be wondering 'what would have happened if I'd have spoken to Antonio? What would have happened if I hadn't been a coward?' You'll never know. And it'll haunt you until the day you die, thinking about a love that might have been, a life you might have had, happiness you might have known. It'll never leave you, no matter how many years pass. You'll look at a picture, visit a place, and you'll think about the times you spent together, and how your cowardice brought any chance of those times returning crashing down about your bowed head. And you'll never be able to let go of it, because he will always be the first person you truly loved and he'll be imprinted on your memory forever."

Lovino scowled at his brother, a tight, tentative scowl. He'd never heard Feliciano say something so dark or severe before. "If you're trying to scare me, Feliciano…" – his face fell – "…you succeeded. You're right, damn it, you're always right. I have to talk to him. As you said, I don't have anything to lose."

Feliciano's expression immediately morphed back into its normal beaming smile, as if it had never been unnaturally menacing in the first place. "That's the spirit, fratello~! Don't be scared. Love will always prevail, you'll see. Let Toni know you really love him, and everything will be alright."

"Well, if you're sure, Feliciano," Lovino replied reluctantly. He always had to be careful around his brother – Feliciano's excitement was often contagious. Lovino didn't want to catch it. It would create entirely the wrong mood for meeting Antonio, excitement would, and the possibility – no, _probability_ – of being rejected was nothing to get excited about.

But he was going to go anyway. He had to, now. It was just as Feliciano said; he had nothing to lose, so he might as well obtain closure on the matter.

_Nothing to lose except my heart, that which I have guarded so closely over the years, _he thought despondently. _Typical. I try so hard to keep myself from getting hurt by love, and in the end, it's my own stupidity that made love hurt me. That's irony at its finest. But why? Why didn't I just think? I had everything, and then I threw it away. But I have to fix things, or at least…I have to try. _

* * *

Ok, be honest, who did I manage to troll with the first few paragraphs?  
But yeah, Lovi's finally opening up a little! It's adorable.

Next chapter's where things get serious again, but no promises as to what day that'll be up. I had the most shitty day in the history of shitty days yesterday, and it's unlikely to improve for a while. Fuck workloads. Seriously. Why don't they just pay me to screw around on the internets? You guys'd pay me to write this, right? *rolls around on the floor in laughter* Yeah. Right.

Joking aside... Yay, 50 reviews! You guys are awesome. :)  
I'mma stop talking now and go sleep.


	14. The Rectifier

_There seemed to be a thousand steps in the building. It certainly felt like it. Each step took a Herculean effort, and after that there was only another one. Every so often there was a break in the endless scale, but then it was only a matter of time before another set loomed before him, each seeming taller and steeper than the last. Lovino knew it was only the nerves pounding through him that were making this trip so hard, making time go so slowly, but he really didn't think he was ready to face Antonio again. _

But, then again, he didn't have a choice. It was destroying him, the pain of loss, and this was the only way that Lovino could see as an end to it. Not to mention that Feliciano had persuaded him into it, and he didn't want to look like a chicken in front of his brother. Feliciano could be scared by his own shadow, for fuck's sake. To his slight disgust, Lovino was partly being driven into this by the determination to not look like a bigger wuss than his brother. It was such an intrinsically selfish thing to be motivated by, and despite being fairly selfish himself, Lovino didn't like it much. But that aside, most of the motivation was getting Antonio back and righting all the wrongs that he'd made over the last few months.

He reached the top of another flight of stairs – he'd lost count of how many he'd ascended in his seemingly endless ascension of nervousness and self-pity. Glancing at the small plastic sign next to the staircase, he was informed that he was on the fourth floor. That made only one left to go until Antonio's floor. He couldn't believe he'd only climbed eight flights; it felt like he'd been climbing for days, even though he knew it couldn't possibly have been that long.

Picking up his tired and unnaturally leaden feet once more, Lovino started up the penultimate set of stairs. The nerves were really beginning to get to him now, more so than they had been for the past few hours. His stomach was aching like he'd just been punched, and his heart had taken up permanent residence in his throat, or so it seemed. Time was slowing down too, but as he rounded the corner, he could see the fifth floor in sight, and he ascended the final twelve stairs in trepidation before walking down the cobalt-carpeted hallway towards the third door along. Heart pounding, he stopped.

Here he was. Apartment 5c. Aka _Casa de Antonio_. His road's end.

This was where he would find out if he truly had ruined everything.

Lovino took a deep breath, determined not to get himself in the mental block he'd experienced at Feliciano's, closed his eyes, and firmly pressed the doorbell. The _bzzzzt_ was faintly audible through the walls, and it was pretty clear that whoever was inside would have heard, and would know there was someone outside waiting. Lovino had reached the point of no return now. There was no going back, even though every inch of him was screaming at him to run home and never come back here. It was weird, considering how easy it had been for him come here last time to do the exact opposite action, how he had barely hesitated in his stubbornness, and how it had all been over so quickly and simply. And yet now, the right thing was so much more difficult. How could that be logically sound?

Lovino stood there for what seemed like an infinite amount of time, trying to keep his breathing under control, running through what he might say in his mind for the final time, before Antonio and the moment of truth arrived.

He waited.

And waited.

Was Antonio not in? It was entirely possible that was the case. He did have other friends here now, lots of them, and he was quite a social person by nature. If he'd have gotten over their relationship – which he probably had by now – that would mean that he'd be back to a normal social calendar. Lovino was rather stumped by this turn of events. Had he really come all this way and undergone all the emotional and mental turmoil that his mind had been assaulting him with, only to be thwarted by an empty apartment? If there had been any room for anger in Lovino's mind he would have been rather pissed off by this new development. But there wasn't, and still the fear remained.

Then the door suddenly opened and Lovino's brain decided to take an immediate, unscheduled, and unwelcome holiday.

XxxxX

Antonio had been half-asleep when the doorbell rang, dozing on the sofa with a book on his face and one arm resting against the floor. It took him several seconds to wake up enough to remember that the reason he'd been woken up in the first place was because someone was at the door. It was probably Gilbert, wanting to retrieve that movie he'd borrowed recently. The silver-haired man had said that he'd be calling over at some point in the next few days. He hadn't said when exactly, so it could be any time; even three in the morning, and Antonio wouldn't put it past him to do just that. Even though it wasn't three in the morning now, only half four on a Saturday afternoon.

Yawning, slightly dazed, and a little disappointed to be woken up from his relaxing nap, Antonio put the book down on the cushions and walked across the room to the door. He really needed to stop falling asleep before people called. Supposedly nights were for sleeping, but Antonio liked dozing in the middle of the day too. It was fun in that strange way that sleeping was, and it was also a great way of getting out of work or chores that needed doing. Antonio was good at procrastinating, especially since he hadn't been feeling great recently. Not feeling great was always a good reason for putting off stuff you didn't want to do.

Then he was woken up by a virtual fifty-thousand-volt shock when he realised who was standing outside.

Antonio would never forget that face. He could live for a hundred years, go to a thousand places, meet a million people, but he'd never, ever, forget that face. Perhaps it wasn't perfect, but it seemed that way to Antonio. Those shining golden-brown eyes of a million hypnotic shades that held so many emotions to them that Antonio could hardly decipher what they said. The soft lips that he loved so much to kiss, and that formed such a beautiful smile on the rarest of occasions. That gravity-defying curl that made its owner make such endearing noises, and the soft brown hair that Antonio loved to run his fingers through. It couldn't be anyone else but Lovino.

But it _couldn_'_t_ be Lovino. It had to be his brother, right? Or some other lookalike. Lovino would never turn up here again. Maybe he was in the wrong place; he was looking for someone next door, perhaps. There was no reason for Lovino to be here, and Antonio couldn't let himself hope that Lovino was here for him.

But, the weirdest thing about all of this had to be the unnatural look on Lovino's face. Those beautiful eyes of his were wide and panicky, and his slightly-parted lips were trembling. He looked like he was staring his worst nightmare in the face and wasn't sure whether or not he'd get out alive. Why he was looking at the Spaniard this way though, was beyond Antonio; absolutely incomprehensible. How Antonio had transformed from a discarded ex-boyfriend into a terrifying spectre was inexplicable. Antonio was completely stunned.

"Uhh…," Antonio said intelligently, then recovered himself enough to form coherent sentences. "Lovi…no. What are you doing here?"

Lovino didn't answer for a time; he just stood in the doorway staring at Antonio and gulping back short, sharp breaths. He almost seemed unable to respond. Antonio briefly wondered why, but he knew he couldn't think too deeply about this. It would only destroy the progress he'd made to recovery.

"Hello?" Antonio tried again. He didn't want to prolong this conversation any longer than it had to be. Seeing Lovino was just too painful, even though it was almost a month since they'd broken up.

Lovino jumped slightly and took a deep breath. His fingers linked in front of him, fidgeting nervously as he tried to find whatever elusive words that he was looking for. Eventually, just as Antonio was about to bid him a reluctant farewell and close the door, Lovino spoke; quietly, sorrowfully. "I'm so fucking sorry."

This shocked Antonio even more than Lovino's surprise appearance had. Sorry? Lovino was _apologising_ to him? Could…could this possibly be for their break-up? Did Lovino want him back? But…but Antonio couldn't let himself hope again. He couldn't face that kind of heartbreak for a second time. He'd just play dumb, find out what Lovino was really thinking, before giving him any sort of answer. Although, what he really wanted to do was just sweep Lovino into his arms, tell him all was forgiven, and never, ever let him go again.

"You're…sorry?" he asked.

Lovino nodded, blinking hard and fast. "Yeah. F-for breaking up with you. For treating you like shit. You didn't deserve it, you never did. It…it's just…I never felt this way before, you know? I've gone my whole life from relationship to relationship just thinking that it was a way to kill time and have fun, but with you it was different. I-I didn't realise what I was feeling, a-and it scared me, so I just ran from it without thinking. I…I fucked up really bad there, and I'm so sorry." To Antonio's surprise, again, tears began to fall down Lovino's cheeks. He'd never seen Lovino cry before. All the confidence he'd always seen in Lovino had somehow evaporated now; he looked so broken and vulnerable. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, Antonio. And-" Lovino took a deep breath, "-I-I love you. I really do. And I'm sorry for not saying it when I should have."

Lovino may as well have pressed the 'off' switch in Antonio's brain with these words. They were the words he'd wanted to hear for so long, the words that a month ago would have made everything alright. It was completely impossible to believe, yet Antonio so dearly wanted it to be true. It looked so much like Lovino was being sincere. In fact, he looked so hurt that it took everything Antonio had not to cradle him in his arms and kiss the tears away.

Antonio blinked slowly at Lovino, stunned to the very core. "You…you really mean that?"

Lovino nodded quickly, all the while staring at Antonio with saddened, hopeful eyes. "Of course I do. I'm really sorry, Antonio. Can…can we please give it another try? For real this time."

Once again, Antonio had to fight off the urge to hug him, and hug him hard. He didn't know what to do now. Here was the one person he wanted, the one person he'd truly love with all his heart, the one person who'd hurt him beyond anything, stood here begging for his forgiveness. Yes, most of him wanted to instantly forgive and forget, to hug Lovino and never let go, but that would only work if Lovino was telling the truth. There was every chance that he wasn't, and Antonio couldn't bring himself to trust the Italian any more. As well as being Antonio's love, Lovino was also the person who'd hurt him more than he'd ever thought feasible. It was entirely possible – nay, probable – that this was just the second part of some Heartbreaker plot, some way to hurt him further, to break what was already broken. After all, that was what Lovino did, what he'd already done. Would he do it again if Antonio let him back into his life?

Antonio couldn't take that chance…could he?

But this was Lovino. His love, all he could ever dream of. He couldn't reject that, could he?

Antonio stared at him. Those frightened, quivering eyes, those trembling lips, that beautiful face. It was almost impossible to even think of saying no. He lifted a hand and gently caressed the side of Lovino's face, feeling the soft skin coated with warm tears. He'd been waiting so long for this moment, and now, he could hardly believe it was here. Lovino relaxed into Antonio's hand and closed his eyes.

"Lovi…" Antonio breathed quietly, feeling tears spring to the edges of his own eyes, and he couldn't help but smile ever so slightly. Lovino looked up at him hopefully, imploring him with wide golden orbs, begging him not to say no.

Antonio blinked again, feeling a solitary tear escape his left eye and trail down his face. He couldn't think – the questions were tearing him apart, driving him crazy. Part of him was so ecstatically happy, and yet the other part was worried that this was all Act II of the most painful play ever written. He sighed quietly and took his hand off Lovino's face. "Lovi…I don't know why you did what you did. I don't understand why you're here. But…the truth is, I just don't really know what to think right now. Have you really changed, or are you just out to trick me again? I'm sorry, Lovi, but I just can't trust you anymore. Not after what you did. You hurt me worse than anything I've ever known. I loved you, and you just lied to me. You lied to me and you broke my heart." The words came out of Antonio's mouth in a dull monotone, and he could hardly believe that he was saying them, but he knew he had to, even though it was shattering his heart again to do so. "Please leave, Lovino. I'm sorry."

"W-what?" Lovino choked as Antonio stepped back and grasped the door knob. "N-no, wait, please don't-" His words were cut off by the painted wood and Antonio's last sight was of him with his hand outstretched, reaching desperately forward, and tears streaking down his anguish-ridden face.

Tears were stinging again at Antonio's eyes as he shut the door quickly behind him, collapsing against it once it was safely closed. Pain clenched his heart when he heard a pained sob echo from the door's other side, causing the tears to spill over and coat his face. Lovino was hurting, so badly, and it was his fault. But was it an act, or was it actually real? Antonio couldn't tell, and he couldn't risk it until he knew, but it hurt so badly to think about.

Had he really made the right choice?

* * *

Ok, so makes up for the giant troll last chapter. Well, kind of. Short chapter is short.  
Hmm? Thought it was over? Nah... No way. I've got more planned for this. Sorry, Lovi, Toni, but it's not going to be over quite so easily.

Thank you for the reviews last chapter. It's awesome that you guys care enough to try cheer me up, even though I was just complaining for the sake of complaining 'cos I had a bad day. Which turned into a really shitty week and doesn't look like it's going to improve for a while, but I'm trying to get things sorted. Yeah. But it does mean I'm able to write lots of angsty chapters, as writing is good for the soul.


	15. The Heartbroken

_Splot_.

Little water droplets made such a soft, unassuming, sound, falling onto the smooth, varnished wood of the table and settling into their own calm equilibrium. There was quite a collection of them on the polished surface already, sat in fingernail-sized puddles that distorted the images reflected in them. They didn't belong on the table-top, of course, but the droplets were saturated with salt and sorrow, and the solitary figure sat slumped at the table made no move to wipe them up. He was just sat on a dining chair, head in his hands, completely motionless. It was almost dark outside, despite it only being late afternoon, but there was no movement to turn on the lights and reduce the dark shadows that were threatening to swallow the room.

_Splot_.

Another tear – for of course they were tears – fell from the man's closed eyes and onto the surface below. Again, no movement was made to clean them. After all, what was the point? Only more would fall to replace them, after all. And Lovino had nothing else to do but cry silently. Everything had lost all meaning now. Work was pointless. Recreation was a dead end. He was severely lacking in friends, and Feliciano's advice had come to naught. The only thing that held any kind of meaning was gone. Far away, high above, beyond all reach, and the depth that separated it from Lovino was beginning to crush him with unfathomable pressure. This, of course, was his lost love, his dear Antonio.

It had only been a day since Antonio's soul-shattering rejection, but in those twenty-seven hours, Lovino had been suspended in an endless, spiralling limbo.

Rejected. He'd been rejected. And, even though he'd considered the possibility, even though he'd been thinking that it might happen, he still couldn't cope with it now that it had. He was being torn apart, piece by piece, and he was completely helpless against it. It was almost beyond pain. It wasn't a physical pain, per se, but it felt so bad that it had almost become so, like he'd been beaten up by half-a-dozen guys whose pulverising efforts had been focused on his chest and throat. Breathing was a struggle sometimes, and even if it was normal, it was broken and punctuated by involuntary sobs that no one else was neither around for nor cared to hear.

_The irony_, Lovino thought to himself. _The infamous Heartbreaker, sat at a table, broken with the very emotion he was known for imposing on others. God, it hurts so bad. Is this what I've been doing to people all this time? This pain, this sorrow, this feeling like your very soul has been torn from you, leaving a gap that is impossible to repair or fill? This is heartbreak? And I've been deliberately making people feel like this, even feeling happy when they walk away broken. Is this the reality of who I am? God, I'm a sadist of the worst possible kind. I must be sick in the head to do this to people. To _want _to do this to people. What kind of monster am I? _He clasped his head in his hands and his shoulders shook again with silent sobs as the horrible realisation continued to hit him with all its unrelenting force.

_Why? Why did I ever think that this was a good idea? I am so completely fucked in the head. I…what am I? Why do I do this? No, _did _I do this. I'm never going to again. But this is so fucked up…I don't even feel like I know who I am any more. I know now what I've been doing, and I can never, ever, do such a thing again. But…it consumed me so. Where…where do I go from here? Who am I now? _

Suddenly, uncertainly, he dragged himself to his feet and staggered to the bathroom on unsteady legs. His muscles felt like warm jelly, reluctant to comply with even the slightest of movements. Pins and needles rose in his legs from where he'd been sat for so long – how had he not noticed he wasn't comfortable where he was? But, despite the trouble, he made it to the bathroom relatively quickly. There was something he had to do, something he had to find out, now that he knew. As he was about to look into the mirror, he paused and closed his eyes. He'd realised the truth of who he was now. He felt almost soulless. Almost afraid.

If he looked in the mirror…would it be the same person as always who looked back? Or would he finally see himself as he now knew himself to be?

Biting his lip so hard he almost drew blood, Lovino opened his eyes. His gaze quickly met that of the identical pair in the mirror. Golden-brown, as always, but flecked with green and hazel. The mix of colours hadn't changed, but the tone was more dull. There was a sadness in those eyes now, Lovino realised, a sadness that had been released when he realised both who he was, and that Antonio would never want him back. Or maybe the sadness had been there all along, but he'd never noticed it before now. And underneath those eyes were dark, hollow circles of exhaustion. It had only been yesterday when he'd spoken to Antonio, but Lovino hadn't slept a wink last night, lying awake only to toss and turn fruitlessly. Thinking only of his lost love.

His reflection's hair was matted and dull, too. Of course it would be. Lovino usually took good care of his appearance; it was natural that it would deteriorate a bit if he abandoned his meticulousness for a day, leaving his hair in an unkempt, unwashed tangle. Well, 'deteriorate a bit' was an understatement. It was six in the evening, and he was still wearing the creased tank top and boxer shorts that he'd collapsed into bed in the previous night. To paraphrase himself; he looked like shit.

But, aside from the minor negligence, his appearance was unchanged. Lovino shook his head in confusion, watching his reflection perfectly mimic the action down the last detail. He wasn't sure _how_, exactly, but he was expecting to have seen something else in that mirror; that was why he'd run into the bathroom, to find out what. He'd just had a minor epiphany, after all. He perceived himself as he truly was now; why didn't that change what he saw when he physically looked? Wasn't the outside supposed to reflect that within? Why didn't he see malice in those eyes, judgement in the lines of his face, depravity in the soul inside? Why did he look at the figure in the mirror and feel only pity?

With a yell of frustration he lashed out at the empty air and turned away from the mirror. It wasn't fair. He'd tried to put things right, he'd tried to apologise to Antonio, but in the end, he was only suffering. Because he didn't deserve the happiness he'd get by being with Antonio. He'd hurt far too many people for all the wrong reasons for that to ever be possible.

He didn't know what to do. He'd lost everything, from the first person he'd loved to all of his faith in himself. There was nowhere to go.

In a last-ditch attempt at sanity, he pulled out his phone, and It was only when he flipped to the contacts menu that he realised.

There was no one to call. Feliciano's advice had been worse than useless, so he'd forever scratch that number. The only other numbers, aside from Antonio's, which he hadn't been able to bring himself to delete, were purely work-related. He had no friends. He'd never seen the point in them before. They'd only been leeches, people who took and never gave. Lovino had never realised he may need to depend on them. Still, that wasn't the reason he didn't have any friends, and he'd only just realised this now. There was a reason why he was alone, why he was despised by those he didn't manipulate.

He'd come to that conclusion now, that realisation of who he really was. A cold-hearted, callous, manipulative bastard who used people's feelings for his own sick purposes. And that realisation left a cold, heavy, nauseated feeling in his stomach.

Lovino hated himself. Now more than ever.

He just felt _wrong_. How could he have lived a life where he'd actually enjoyed bringing pain to others? When he'd deliberately sought to make people feel the same agony he was experiencing now. How could he do that? He deserved the pain he was feeling, as some futile compensation for those whose lives he'd made miserable. He just felt…

…worthless.

XxxxX

"Over here, Toni!"

Antonio glanced around at the sharp, yet cheery, voice, quickly spotting its owner sat in the trio's usual place close to the bar. Of course, they were meeting in some place where alcohol was readily available, and _The Old English Gentleman _had become a place of habit, mainly for the price. Gilbert liked sitting close to the bar, so he wouldn't have as far to walk, and if he was lucky, he'd even get drinks brought to him. But he had to catch Alfred's shift and when Arthur wasn't looking for that one. The Englishman didn't approve of the encouragement of laziness.

"So," Gilbert said firmly as Antonio approached. "I know Franny's not quite here yet, but we've been friends for ages. You can tell me first why you called us to chat with some kind of something to talk about. You're looking pretty shell-shocked and the awesome me wants to know why."

Antonio settled down on the sofa next to his friend before he replied. Yes, he'd called Gilbert and Francis over to chat about Lovino's surprise visit last night, but even then he was still a bit lost for words. He'd been thinking about exactly this for quite some time now, but even still he wasn't sure just how to bring up the topic. It was still so alien to him. He wasn't sure that he'd made the right decision either; he'd called his friends for a bit of justification, and he couldn't wait until their usual meeting on Fridays before it devoured him from the inside. "Well, it's about something that happened to me yesterday."

Gilbert raised an eyebrow, folding his arms over his black T-shirt. "Go on. The awesome me is intrigued. Spill the beans."

"Hmm?" A different voice interrupted behind the sofa's back. "You aren't starting an interesting discussion without _moi_, are you? That is not fair." Of course, it was Francis, and the blond quickly slipped around the the side of the sofa, over its sagging leather arm, and into the seat on Antonio's other side. "I hope you haven't spilt anything juicy yet, _mon ami_, although from your face, I would say it is something worrying as opposed to exciting."

Antonio just bit his lip as a reply to this, but he was guessing that his face was giving the answer away. It wasn't hard, after all; he was doing little to disguise the emotion.

Gilbert tactlessly poked him in the arm, alternating both index fingers with painful nerve-jabbing precision. "Tell. Tell. The awesome me wants to know. Stop teasing."

"Ok, ok." Antonio batted him off to stop the relentless finger barrage. "I'm going to tell, give me a chance. I wouldn't have called you guys over if I wasn't going to say anything. You know that~." He smiled, more out of nervousness than anything, and settled back against the cushions once Gilbert had returned his hands to his beer. "Ok. Well...the weirdest thing happened yesterday. And the thing is, I was really put on the spot, and I'm not sure I did the right thing. It's kinda been bugging me." He exhaled gently, trying to find the necessary words; not his strong point. "Last night…Lovino turned up again."

His friends' jaws dropped in so much synchronised unison they may as well have been attached to each other. "What?" Gilbert exclaimed. "That conniving fuckwit! Toni, you seriously didn't-"

"_Cher_, let him finish," Francis interrupted before Gilbert got started ranting. "This may or may not be what you think." He winked at Antonio. "Go on."

Antonio smiled at him. "Right. Well, at first I was as shocked as you guys, 'cos it's been a month and I'm not at all over him, and the last thing I was expecting was for him to come see me. But…that was nothing compared to what happened next. He just…kinda apologised for everything. Said I didn't deserve how he'd treated me, and he regretted it."

"_Kühscheiße,_" Gilbert snorted, shortly before Francis shushed him again and motioned for Antonio to continue.

It took several seconds of Antonio composing himself to say the next part; he was still stunned, even the next day, and he was still finding it so hard to believe that Lovino had actually said it, let alone comprehend the consequences if it were true. "Uh…well…he…he then said that…that he loved me. And I think he meant it."

Francis let out a quiet gasp and leant forward, staring hard at Antonio. "What did you do?" he breathed, as if talking loudly would scare Antonio away.

Antonio bit his lip. This was still the part he wasn't sure about. "I…I told him I couldn't trust him anymore, and told him to leave." His hesitant voice was barely audible above the ambient chatter of the pub. A sudden lump had leapt into his throat; that terrible, heart-wrenching sob that had been the last thing he'd heard from Lovino kept assaulting his ears and punching him with hammer-fisted guilt.

"Do you think he really meant it?" Francis asked.

Antonio nodded. "Yeah…but I don't know. He was in tears and sobbing and apologising for everything and begging me to take him back for real, but I was so scared it was just another part of a plot and he was just acting. But I've been thinking…did I make the right choice?"

The next thirty seconds or so of silence were a surprise to him; he'd been expecting Gilbert at least to instantly reply 'No', or 'You made a good call'. But no, both of his friends were in silent thought for a short while. Perhaps they were analysing, perhaps each was just waiting for the other to speak first; Antonio didn't know. He wasn't sure whether to be worried or reassured by the silence either. Mostly worried, though. He was rather wanting their input on the situation.

Eventually, a rather thoughtful and surprised-looking Francis spoke. "So, you're saying that Lovino, The Heartbreaker, came up to you out of the blue, apologised for hurting you, admitted his love, and wanted you back? That is severely out of character."

Gilbert interrupted before Francis could continue any further. "You don't say? Doubt the guy's ever said anything like that to anyone in his life, from what I know of him. He's never gotten back with an ex before, either; it's always a new playing field with that guy. So what I reckon is that he's going for his first break-someone-twice thing."

"_Au contraire_, Gilbert," Francis countered. "Something so out of character is most likely to be genuine. It is quite possible that he actually meant it."

"What, and he actually fell for Toni?" Gilbert snorted. "Not that that's impossible, man. You're an awesome dude; not as awesome as me, but people'd be lucky to have you. It's more that, I reckon that bastard's not actually _got _a heart of his own. No way's he going to apologise to someone, let alone love 'em."

Antonio, knowing Gilbert well, could see he wasn't going to back down once he had a point to make, and quickly interrupted before Francis had a chance to reply. "But guys, do you think I did the right thing? Should I have taken him back, or was I best off telling him no?"

"Oh yeah, you made the right call, Toni," Gilbert replied casually. "Guy's a dick, you deserve better. He was obviously lying too. 'S'what he does, and stuff."

Antonio nodded. There was the answer he'd been expecting. In truth, he wasn't entirely certain why he'd called to ask his friends' opinion; he could guess pretty much exactly what they'd think of the matter. He wasn't sure which one he wanted to hear either. One argument meant that he was just being taunted and continually reminded of his heart's searing pain, but the other meant he'd just kicked away the one man he truly loved when he was begging for a second chance. He turned to Francis, justifying a second opinion.

It was a few seconds of raised eyebrows and thoughtful lip-biting before the Frenchman responded. "Hmm," he finally said. "That is a tricky one. Of course, it all depends on whether or not Lovino was actually honest about his feelings for you when he spoke to you yesterday. If he was, then...well, I'm not sure whether it would be a loss or not. Yes, you'd have the man you love, but he is also the man who deliberately hurt you and many others, and you'd be the one dealing with that every day when I'm sure there is someone out there who truly deserves you. On the other hand, however, there is the significantly higher possibility that Lovino _was_ lying to you in the hope it would lead to some kind of…extension, perhaps…on your relationship, and he'd create a new line in renewed relationships. Not nice to think about, _non_, but it's a possibility. And I suppose, overall, it means that I am forced to agree with Gilbert on this matter. It is not worth the risk going back to him, _cheri_, and I would try your best to keep your mind away from the 'what ifs'." He reached over and gave the worried-looking Antonio a tight hug. "Don't worry, Antoine. He's gone forever now; you don't have to worry about getting hurt again. And you have us, _non_?"

Antonio, despite how much he was trying to think about the situation rationally, wasn't entirely settled on the matter. "Yeah. And I can't thank you guys enough for your support. But it's just so hard to stop thinking about it. It's like I've lost the closure I once had. I need to know. But I don't know what to do."

Gilbert frowned. "Well, in any case, it's your call, man. But he's gone now. You've never got to worry 'bout it again. So don't, huh? And since you've had a rough couple days, how about a bit of a good time, huh? This round's on me!" He promptly stood up, wandered over to the bar, and yelled at Arthur to 'get his ass over here and pour a round of kickass drinks'. Said barman responded by flipping Gilbert off and giving him a mouthful of curses, but he made the drinks nonetheless; Gilbert's alcohol-fuelled clientele was far too valuable to lose over something so trivial.

Antonio, meanwhile, was still far from convinced. Perhaps it was still his ever-enduring love for Lovino, but his brain was still refusing to believe that rejecting him had been the right idea. He still wanted so badly to call Lovino back, to sweep him into his arms, to kiss him until everything was alright. But he couldn't, not until he knew. And he'd never know the answer to the question that permanently burned so bright in his mind; was Lovino telling the truth? Did he really love him?

But he'd never know. Lovino had promised never to contact him again if Antonio heard out his confession, and that had happened as agreed. And Antonio wasn't sure if calling Lovino was a good idea at all, and he'd be far too scared if it was. Scared of what Lovino might say. Scared of what the answer might be. Scared of the tremendous power that the Italian still held over him, even after a month apart.

He'd already been heartbroken once. He wasn't sure if he could take it again.

* * *

**Well, this is up a bit late. I was intending it being fairly prompt, due to it being the holidays for the past two weeks. Blame stress before that, and LEGO Lord Of The Rings after. But I promised myself it'd be done before Christmas, and it is. **

**This is more of an angsty filler chapter tbh, which is why it was harder to write. Next chapter is back to where things go down. Seriously.  
**


	16. The Repentant

Pain.

It attacked his brain with a thousand hammers, like drums were beating in his ears, relentless and unforgiving. His throat felt and tasted like sandpaper, scratching his nerves with further rough, grating pain every time he even dared to breathe. A dull ache inhabited his limbs; they felt like recently tenderised meat.

Lovino let out a quiet moan as he lay, wishing futilely that the pain would leave him be. He felt bad enough as it was. It may have been almost two weeks since Antonio had rejected him, but the heartbreak he was feeling was no less agonising. The numb tingling still haunted his arms, a vice-grip wouldn't let his chest free, and a pair of hypnotic green eyes were permanently engraved in his mind, silently asking him why he had kicked away the best thing that ever happened to him.

And, as if all of that wasn't bad enough, his pillow was somehow all scratchy, like dirt or sand, his mattress had turned hard and rough, and something pointed was pressing into his cheek. He would have wondered how his bed had ended up in such a state, but the ceaseless pain in his head wasn't letting him think more than one sentence at a time without an inward scream and all thoughts being cut off. Still not bothering to open his eyes, he reluctantly moved one hand, intent on moving whatever was poking his face, but immediately froze when his fingers contacted short, cold fronds. Almost like grass.

No. Not like grass. Actual grass.

This isn't my bed…is it?

Tentatively, mentally cursing both at the pain and his own situation, Lovino opened his eyes. As he'd just guessed, he wasn't indeed in his own bed. Instead of soft Egyptian cotton sheets and a comfy feather mattress, he was crumpled half on a patch of rough dry grass, half on a dirt footpath covered lightly with sandstone gravel. The open space was deserted, save for a chirping bird in one of the hedges lining the far side of the path, and an ant crawling a few inches away from the eye closest to the ground. To his right was a river of water the colour of cold coffee, the edge of the bank scattered with overgrown weeds and algae. After a few moments of pain-laced delirium, Lovino identified his location as the canal bank, perhaps half a mile outside of town. And he had no memory of how he had ended up here.

What the fuck did I do last night?

Lovino sat up gingerly, his face imprinted with dirt and red marks, and the pain in his head immediately throbbed and multiplied tenfold, causing him to moan loudly. It was like a group of porcupines were having a rave inside his head with the bass turned up to eleven. It was a hangover, clearly, one of the worst he'd ever had the ill luck to experience, and under this observation, Lovino realised what must have happened. Last thing he'd known, he'd been at a bar – he wasn't sure which one – trying to drown the pain in his heart with alcohol. And this had been after downing a bottle and a half of wine at home before he'd gone out. But, instead of drowning his sorrow, the liquid had served only to swamp his brain and douse his memory. And so, somehow, through some drunken stupor, Lovino had wandered off and ended up on the far side of town, soaked in pain and liberally daubed with mud.

He moaned again, this time out of despair as well as pain. What has happened to me? How far have I fallen? I used to be so content with life, then he came along, and I wrecked it all. And now I'm waking up on a canal bank, covered in mud and pain and bruises. Two steps away from hitting the lowest of the low, and it doesn't look like I'm going to hit an upward gradient any time soon. Fuck. I'm such a fucking retard. Why. The Fuck. Did I have. To break up. With Antonio.

If he hadn't have known that it would cause more pain than it would solve, Lovino would have punched himself in the head. He felt like that much of an idiot…but then he'd been feeling that for most of the past week or so. And Antonio's rejection had only exacerbated that.

It was almost as if he'd stopped caring. He'd missed two days of work this week, at least, and the days he had been there had been spent procrastinating, yelling at anyone who so much as dared to walk past his office door, and staring longingly at the ring Antonio had given him all those weeks ago, which now lay perpetually around his neck. But not caring was impossible. He cared so much. Just not about what he used to. Antonio had wandered into his life with a magic eraser and wiped clean everything else on the blackboard of Lovino's life, and Lovino had been so caught up in his own feelings and plots that he didn't notice until Antonio was gone. He'd turned back around to notice that the blackboard was empty, save for a sole sketch of Antonio's gorgeous face as the only thing to focus on.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lovino noticed a lone dog-walker on the other side of the canal staring at him. It was clear that the other was noticeably shocked, and was trying his absolute best to walk by as fast as possible, for fear that Lovino might jump up and rob him of his battered blue windcheater. True, it wasn't every day you spotted a hungover guy wearing the crumpled and muddy remains of what had once been a stylish designer outfit, lying on the side of a canal bank. But Lovino didn't really care about some random stranger's feelings now. All that mattered to him was his own crushing pain. And, to his surprise, Lovino found he didn't even have the energy to flip the guy off. He just let him wander off down the bank, tried to ignore the disparaging look shot in his direction, and especially tried to ignore that it hurt.

Lovino hadn't used to care about what people thought of him. He hadn't realised everyone hated him until the one person whose feelings actually mattered had gone. But Lovino would rather he had Antonio and no one else, than everyone else and no Antonio. Yet now, he had neither. And it was his own damned fault.

Thankfully, for his own mental health, at least, Lovino had gotten past the self-hate stage of his rejection. Yes, he hated who he had been, but he understood it now, to the best of his ability at least. And he knew that he had understood, and was going to be different. The Heartbreaker was gone now, replaced by The Heartbroken, and Lovino was determined not to revert back to who – no, what – he once was. He couldn't stand putting someone through the pain he was feeling now. It was an accepting state of mind, but unfortunately, far from a motivated one. He wasn't – and never had been – about to try doing things that were hard, and long degrees of personal change certainly fitted into that category. Which was why he was currently collapsed on a canal bank, with a head that was about to get charged with attempted murder.

He didn't have anywhere to go now, though.

Well, that was or was not true, depending on the metaphorical or literal interpretation. He could easily get up and return home, or to Feliciano's, or one of a hundred places. But he didn't see the point in going anywhere. Home, he'd be trapped in an endless cycle of pointlessness and loss. He didn't know how to break out of it, and part of him didn't want to break out of it. Breaking out of the cycle would mean that he'd have given up on Antonio.

But then, he supposed he already had. That, after all, was why he was where he was now.

All he wanted to do was to see Antonio again. There was still so much he wanted to say, so much he hadn't had chance to say. But he'd promised never to see Antonio again. He'd already had his closure, and going to see the Spaniard again would just be a renewal of this awful pain that wasn't fading in the first place.

But…the problem then lay in his current situation. Mainly, in a lack of viable options. If he kept going on like he had been for the past couple of weeks, he'd end up spiralling into a path of self-destruction. He'd end up with no job, no money, nowhere to live, and not an ounce of happiness. It would destroy him.

Yet he knew seeing Antonio again would be a bad idea.

On the other hand again…Lovino had never much been one for obeying the rules. And with this realisation came a resolve that allowed his stubborn, confrontational side to take control, the side that had been laying dormant for weeks. Brushing aside the pain as best he could, Lovino jumped to his feet and started running, determined to carry on and not think, lest he lose the bravado that was currently all he had left.

XxxxX

It only took him fifteen minutes to storm across town from the canal bank, and he hadn't lost a bit of his determination on the way. Nope. He was going to go tell Antonio exactly what he thought of him, tell him what he'd given up, what he'd lost by rejecting Lovino's heartfelt confession. It would be hard, he knew, but in his pain-addled mind, he didn't know another way.

Before he knew it, he was at the top of the staircase in Antonio's apartment block, turning to face the door he'd been so scared of a few weeks ago. It was still scary beyond belief, but Lovino was determined to do this. He'd all but convinced himself that he had to. He banged his thumb down on the doorbell and waited, breathing hard, face set in an expression of defiance and willpower.

But, as soon as Lovino looked into those captivating emerald eyes, all of his resolve, his bravery, his frustration, melted away to nothing as the fear and pain came rushing back all at once. It was him, it was Antonio; the one he'd been longing for for weeks now. Right in front of him. So close and yet so far away. It felt like he was staring fear in the face.

Lovino could see Antonio's face frozen in shock, and he immediately became self-conscious of the matted appearance he'd been oblivious of until now. He'd come straight from the canal bank, after spending a night drinking and doing God-knows-what, and he was suddenly aware that it would reflect very heavily – and clearly negatively – on his appearance. He was probably covered with mud and grass, and judging from the pain, there were numerous cuts and bruises over his body. Oh God – and Antonio would be judging him for that. Who knows what the Spaniard would be thinking now he'd seen Lovino this way? It couldn't be good. Lovino could feel his heart pounding through his chest and head, and struggled to keep the panic from overwhelming him. He'd come to talk to Antonio, not look like an idiot and wordlessly run away. He had to say something. Why couldn't he?

Pain was stinging in his eyes, and Lovino knew it was only a matter of time before he was going to cry. But that didn't matter. It didn't matter. This was going to be the last time he'd see Antonio. This was going to be closure. So he was going to be brave, and he was going to try stay calm. Go out with a bit of dignity. Even if these could well be the last words he'd ever say to Antonio.

Lovino blinked once, then stared Antonio in the eyes. He could feel the tears that had already escaped. He hadn't thought the pain would be this bad, returning here; it was like rubbing salt in a raw wound. But he gasped down one final breath, and then spoke.

"Antonio. I...I know you said that you never wanted to see me again, and there wasn't ever going to be a chance that we could be together. But...I have to do this. Just now. Give me two minutes to say what I have to say. You don't have to say anything back, but please just listen. And then I'll walk out forever. I…I mean it. You'll never have to see me again." Lovino paused for a second, just to give Antonio a chance to answer, but he didn't reply; only stood frozen. But he hadn't shut the door, which could only be an invitation to continue, even though Lovino was feeling less sure about this with every passing moment. His resolve had vanished as quickly as it had appeared. The ground was beginning to sway, so he closed his eyes before continuing, putting everything he had into conveying what he felt.

His voice sounded so far away as he began. "I am so fucking sorry for everything I did to you. Everything I did to hurt you. You didn't deserve it, and I should never have done it. …I was scared of what I felt, and I so did what I always do – I ran away from it because I didn't know what it meant, and it scared me. I've never been in love before. I didn't know how to deal with it, because I was hiding behind the lie, and dealing with it would mean admitting the truth, and facing fear, hurt, betrayal. I always thought that if I run away from relationships before I get involved, I'd never get hurt like that. I'd always be the one who came out ok. But…" Lovino couldn't help but smile wryly at this point, his runaway tears getting caught in his mouth. "You did it. You broke the heart of The Heartbreaker. No one, least of all me, would have considered it possible. But you did. And…and you didn't even know you were doing it. No. It was my fault. I broke of my own relationship, and I was the one it hurt. Perhaps I am still The Heartbreaker, but the last heart I'm ever to break was my own. I can't carry on from here, Antonio. I…I know what it was like for you, now. This pain. This loss. This longing. I could never do that again. To anyone. So I can't go back. But I can't go forward. There's nothing there. I'm not saying I've turned suicidal – I'm too scared of death to even consider that. It's more that…that when I try looking forward, all I want to see is you. But I can't. I don't deserve it, because all you did was love me and I kicked you away instead of returning it." Lovino scrunched his eyes up tight and shut his mouth. He'd let his thoughts run away; instead of resolute, he just sounded pathetic.

Antonio was still motionless, silent, unrelenting. Lovino didn't have the courage to look up at his face. He knew well what he'd find there if he looked. Derision, pity, hatred, contempt. He couldn't bear seeing that on Antonio's countenance. The Spaniard at least, deserved to be happy. Another juddering sob wracked Lovino's shoulders. "I don't want to be here anymore," Lovino whispered in the direction of his feet. "I'm so sorry."

He let the fear he'd been repressing take him over, and his instincts took charge to do what they did best. He turned tail and ran. Out of the corridor, out of the building, out of Antonio's life. Forever. Because that was the way it was best.

It was never meant to be any other way.

He didn't deserve it any other way.

* * *

**Yes, I am evil and melodramatic. Let the angst climax! **

**Thanks go to reviews/favs/follows; always appreciated. And if you guys could take a look at the poll on my profile *shameless self-plug*, that would be awesome too, as I'm looking to know what to write. Got loads of ideas; just want to know how to prioritise my writing time. Thankies! :) **


	17. The Reconciled

Antonio had no idea what to think.

If he was able to start actually thinking again, that was. His mind had just been short-circuited.

He'd thought this entire ordeal with Lovino had been over for good couple of weeks now, ever since he'd told Lovino that they couldn't be together again. Not that it had been a good thing, but Antonio had been slightly relieved that he had rejected Lovino's plot and escaped a second murderous heartbreak. Aside from the sadness that he'd had to reject the love of his life.

At the time, that was.

But no. Things, it seemed, were far from over, and Antonio's mind had once again been blown, at a point where he didn't think any further stupefaction was possible. Now his ex-boyfriend-who-he-totally-wasn't-over had turned up out of the blue at nine on a Saturday morning, covered in mud, and one side of him dusty with some sandy-coloured powder. His clothes were equally creased and battered, the polar opposite of his usual immaculate dress. Scratches lined one side of his pale, drawn face, which had dark shadows circling his wide, devastated golden eyes. Pain wracked every line, and shone deep the soul of his eyes. His hair, which was usually soft and styled to perfection, was bedraggled and greasy, like he'd not washed it in days and been out all night with no care for anything. Antonio wondered what awful thing must have happened to him for him to look like this, yet he didn't really want to think about it too hard. It looked like he'd gone to hell, and escaped back through a jungle and a desert.

And then he'd dropped the bombshell of a lifetime. Screw that, he'd practically had a mental breakdown on Antonio's doorstep. Everything he'd said had been almost impossible to believe, and yet he'd said it with such utter conviction and emotion that Antonio had found it impossible not to believe every word.

Without any invitation or introduction, Lovino had just launched into a deluge of apology and self-pity; Antonio hadn't had any time to prepare himself for the absolute surprise. It was pretty well evident that this was all that had been on Lovino's mind lately, and Antonio was shocked that he'd actually had that kind of effect on him. It had almost been a self-psychoanalysis, only without the fancy terms or any direction in which to go. But it had made sense. Not logical sense, mind, but Antonio could see why Lovino had done what he'd done. To the point where he actually felt sorry for him.

And then Lovino had ran. Just at the point Antonio had been about to ask him for an explanation, he'd ran. Perhaps he'd run out of things to say, perhaps he didn't need an answer, perhaps he'd been far too scared of what Antonio might next say to even consider waiting to hear it. Antonio didn't know, but he could guess pretty accurately that Lovino had to be devastated. He must have completely given up on Antonio by now. Well, he'd all but said that earlier. If Antonio listened, which he did, Lovino would never come back again. Which pretty much sounded like giving up. Admitting defeat and conceding to a life of misery on his own, because he felt like he deserved it. Which he didn't, not really. Sure, he'd made some really bad decisions, but only because he hadn't understood, and now that he did, he was trying to change, and yet refused to let that allow him to be happy.

Poor Lovi.

Antonio didn't know what to do. Most of him wanted to just run back out the door, chase after Lovino, and grab him back. Part of him wanted to call Gilbert or Francis and ask for their advice. But he'd done that a bit much recently, and besides, he knew exactly what they'd say, even before calling. It'd be the same scenario as before; forget it, don't trust Lovino, he's just lying, and other words to that effect. And, sooner or later, neither of them would keep it a secret, even if Antonio asked. Word would get out about The Heartbreaker having a meltdown, and poor Lovino would just be left feeling even worse and completely alone. After all he'd done, Antonio still didn't want that for him.

After all…there was a significant chance that things might just be different now.

Antonio had rejected Lovino the other week because it had a good chance of just being another plan of the infamous Heartbreaker's. But this really didn't seem like any kind of plan. Plans never involved complete humiliation by having a breakdown on your ex's doorstep. Plans never had you trying repeatedly for the same person when there were many others who could do exactly the same thing. Plans never made you look that genuinely terrible. So he had to conclude that Lovino was completely serious about everything he said.

It was everything he'd ever dreamed of, returned to him. But could he trust Lovino not to revert back to what he was? Would he be making the right choice by taking him back? What if…

That was right. The 'what if's. The very questions that would haunt a person for not doing something they should have done. It was said that you regret more the things you didn't do more than the things that you did. And, Antonio didn't have to be a genius to know that if he didn't go talk to Lovino now, he'd forever be wondering what would have happened if they were together again, and he'd always be regretting it to himself for not chasing after the love of his life when the latter ran away after confessing.

Antonio sighed to himself, and a hopeful half-smile wandered involuntarily onto his face. No. He could sit here and think and debate to himself until the moon turned blue, but that wouldn't change the fact that he knew he'd already made his decision, and had so from the minute Lovino had run away.

He needed to get his beloved back.

XxxxX

Lovino knew that pillows weren't meant to taste nice, but that hadn't stopped him from having his face buried in one for the past few hours. Thankfully, whoever had designed the pillow had deliberately made it breathable, so he wasn't suffocating. Not that he felt much like he cared either way.

As soon as he'd got home from Antonio's – a journey which had taken less than fifteen minutes, since he'd been running fast and almost blindly – Lovino had just collapsed on his bed without bothering to change his muddy clothes or even take off his shoes. He couldn't see the point, and even if he could, he just didn't have the energy. His, well, minor breakdown, and the subsequent flight, had drained him both physically and emotionally. He'd been absolutely right in what he said to Antonio; he really didn't know where to go from here. At the moment, just lying defeated on the bed seemed like the only viable option, and it was all he even slightly felt like doing. He didn't know what time it was, nor how long he'd been there. He didn't care. There was no point to caring.

For once, his brain had decided to shut down and stop most forms of thinking, mostly due to the still-awful hangover that pounded with even the slightest movement, but Lovino was grateful for the release. He didn't want to still be thinking about all the possible outcomes the morning might have had, or the things he should have said or done. Part of him had debated a bit if he'd come off as too pathetic, and that was why Antonio hadn't said anything, but most of the rest of his brain had just responded with owww, and, for the most part, stayed quiet.

Then there were three sharp knocks on the door.

Lovino growled, far too exhausted and deep in despair to even think about bothering to move, but the pillow just made the noise sound like a deep hum. Guessing it was just Feliciano, probably coming to check how he was, he just ignored it and hoped his brother would realise he didn't want to talk and go away. He'd see him at work on Monday – couldn't the guy wait two days?

But the knocks came again a few seconds later; four this time, not that he was deliberately counting.

"Goddamn it, Feliciano," Lovino groaned, still muffled by the pillow in his face. Reluctantly, he dragged himself to his feet, swearing profusely as the pain in his head again multiplied. He really ought to have taken some paracetamol before collapsing onto bed, but he'd been too exhausted to wander all the way into the bathroom to raid the medicine shelf, so he still had a killer of a headache to deal with. And he really didn't want to face his overly-talkative brother in this state. Amongst other things, Feliciano would probably be disappointed in the way that Lovino was dealing with the situation. Lovino just wanted to flop back into bed and fall asleep.

It took him a minute or so to stagger to the front door, supporting his aching frame on items of furniture in his path, during which time the knocks had come once more. Lovino had promptly sworn loudly in that direction, to let whoever was behind the door know he was coming, and hopefully to get them to go the fuck away. Not that he'd be pleased to have gotten up for nothing, but that was certainly better than having to deal with civilised conversation and a simultaneous hangover.

But his glare melted as he pulled the door back and spotted Antonio's nervous-looking face in the hallway. All annoyed words died in his throat, and even his killer headache was forgotten.

He had to be hallucinating, right? There was no way that Antonio would have come here; not now, not after what had happened earlier. Lovino must have just be so devastated that he was imagining impossible scenarios.

Antonio smiled; a small, nervous smile, but it was still so beautiful. "Uh…hiya, Lovi."

Lovino didn't reply. He couldn't. There was a large tennis-ball-esque lump in his throat that was preventing him from talking, and almost breathing as well. It really was Antonio stood in front of him. He didn't dream in this much detail, and he certainly couldn't perfectly visualise that gorgeous voice. The shock had overwhelmed him. But he had to talk, otherwise Antonio would surely just leave. But he couldn't.

Antonio visibly swallowed, and Lovino, for the second time that day, realised that he looked completely atrocious during what was quite probably a serious conversation. What Antonio must think of him, he didn't know, but it certainly couldn't be good.

"Yeah, so…about earlier…" Antonio began talking again, rubbing nervously at the back of his neck as he hesitantly spoke. Lovino felt faint. Here it came; another soul-crushing rejection. Couldn't Antonio just let things be? He was heartbroken enough already – the Spaniard didn't have to get revenge by rubbing it in his face after he'd come over and bared his soul.

But, regardless and quite possibly oblivious to Lovino's panic, Antonio continued hesitantly. "Well…I've been thinking a bit. And…I realised I had to talk to you. I've got a couple of questions."

Still stunned, Lovino stared back at him. Antonio was here, wanting to talk to him. And, so far, it wasn't in-his-face stamping-on-his-heart. It took several seconds of gawping before Lovino remembered to nod.

Antonio smiled again, and Lovino deliberately had to stop himself from staring. "Well…first, and I guess most important…were you serious when you said you were stopping being a heartbreaker? You'd never do that again?" His emerald eyes were bright and hopeful.

Lovino gulped back a shallow breath and nodded again. "Yes. I…I couldn't do that to someone, now I know how…how it feels." He wished he still had the bravado he'd had earlier. It was so much harder admitting this now, and knowing that Antonio actually wanted to listen to what he had to say.

But he couldn't gauge Antonio's reaction accurately; the Spaniard just nodded as a response. "Ok. So…have you really felt that bad about breaking up with me?"

Felt bad…what a hideous understatement, Lovino thought to himself. It's completely wrecking me. But he thought better than to try for long sentences or accurate descriptions, so he just nodded for the third time and replied thickly, "Worst mistake I've ever made."

Yet again, Antonio just nodded, but now, he wasn't even smiling. Terror was beginning to claw at Lovino again – was he being too pathetic again? But he swallowed it down. He'd never be able to live with himself if he tossed away the only chance – however tiny – of being with Antonio again.

"Right," Antonio replied. "Last, question, I guess."

It was several seconds of tense pause before he tentatively spoke again. "Do you love me?"

Lovino shut his eyes and looked down at the floor. He could barely breathe – the tension was killing him now. But he'd decided that he was done with lies. Honesty was the best policy now. "Yes. With…with all my heart."

He was fully expecting Antonio to leave now. There was still no way he'd stay. He didn't deserve someone like Lovino. But the footsteps never came.

Only a surprisingly happy, hopeful voice. "Really? I can't…I don't know what…" Antonio cleared his throat quickly, and when he spoke again, his voice was once again calmer. "I mean…if you're really serious about all of that…about never breaking hearts again…I'd like to give us another go at a relationship. For real this time, not just part of any kind of lie, or plot, or anything like that. Just us."

Lovino looked up at him, mouth open, hardly daring to hope that Antonio's words meant what he thought they might. It would hurt too much to have that heartbreak hit him for a third time. It wasn't within the bounds of his fragile mental state. He didn't want to think what would happen if he got any worse. He was already located somewhere down the road to self-destruction – what lay at that end? Where could he go from here, with no direction, no destination and no point? How much worse was it possible to get?

Nevertheless, he had to know. He swallowed nervously. "Do…do you really mean it?"

Lovino could feel his heart pounding in every vein, and the world span, as he waited for Antonio's reply.

"Yes," Antonio replied quietly, but firmly, staring deep into Lovino's eyes with the single most powerful word Lovino had ever heard.

Soaring wasn't even close to describing the motion that Lovino's heart performed as Antonio replied. He was flying, whirling higher than the highest of clouds, on the best feeling that he could ever recall knowing. It was beyond even the purest of euphorias. His breath stalled, catching in his throat as the sheer disbelief overwhelmed him. The cold smoothness of tears slid down his cheeks, and Lovino realised – yet didn't care – that he was crying.

Antonio, whose face was also decorated with tears, held out his arms and smiled that beautiful, amazing smile at him. "Come here, Lovi."

The younger had never heard anything more inviting, and he could feel the smile spreading across his own face as he stepped into Antonio's warm arms, the embrace he'd been so longing for for weeks. It was even more incredible than he remembered. Nowhere else could ever be so wonderful, so comforting, so safe. It was like the previous few weeks had all been a dream – or perhaps now was the dream; it felt so strange to be this happy after he'd been so awful just half an hour before. But Lovino knew he'd made the right choice; he didn't want to ever be anywhere else, or with anyone else. Only his beloved Antonio.

One of Antonio's hands buried itself in his hair and stroked gently, the other latched firmly around his waist. Lovino, deciding for once in his life to ignore his stubborn pride, snuggled closer and sighed contentedly. He never thought he'd ever have moments like this again, let alone feel this happy. He could still feel the ecstatic tears escaping his eyes and soaking Antonio's dark green shirt, but he didn't care.

It was several minutes of content later that Lovino realised that they were still stood in his doorway. Reluctantly, he shifted his head slightly and looked at Antonio, who had released his grip slightly, thinking Lovino wanted to break the hug. Which, he supposed he did, but only in favour of going inside and continuing it. But he wasn't sure how to express that in words, which were still a bit beyond his thought capabilities at that moment. So he just silently picked up Antonio's hand and stepped back inside his apartment, hoping that the other would get the message. Thankfully, Antonio understood and didn't question, just followed Lovino inside.

It was almost reminiscent of the first time Antonio entered his apartment, Lovino realised as he led Antonio over to the sofa. A new start to something that neither of them quite knew what they were getting themselves in for. But their destination – and atmosphere – was a little different this time. It wasn't furiously passionate, but quiet, loving, and ever-so-slightly disbelieving. Neither of them could quite believe that they were where they were after going down the path it had taken to get them there. It had rather been a rollercoaster of emotion, but with far more harsh plummets, sharp turns, and nerve-wracking ups than the fairground ride that gave the metaphor its name. But Lovino wouldn't exchange his new situation for the world. Not for all the enraptured admirers, not for all the free evenings, not for all the excitement and thrills that his previous life had given him. He'd never known it before, but all that was worthless compare to what he had found now.

Just before they reached the sofa, Antonio stepped ahead, dropping down onto the cushions and pulling Lovino gently after him, so that the Italian was sat atop his legs. For once, Lovino was glad of the gesture, and happily snuggled into Antonio's embrace as the Spaniard leant backwards against the cushions. Nothing Antonio could do would annoy him now – Lovino was far too glad to have him back. And he supposed he always would be.

It was still incredibly unbelievable.

Lovino clutched hard at Antonio, clinging on as if the other might slip away and disappear, and he felt Antonio gratefully grip back just as hard. It was clear that both had the same unspoken fears, the fears of being abandoned and broken, but they were gingerly beginning to trust the other with the terrifying power of controlling that fear. After all, each was the one the other loved completely.

And it was that which was making him so happy. Lovino hadn't realised that genuine affection was so much more powerful and worthwhile than fake or forced affection until it had affected him personally. For once, he realised why his brother was always chasing after that German bastard. If they felt for each other like he and Antonio did, he didn't blame them one bit. It was pure, unadulterated bliss. And Lovino realised that he'd happily have nothing else in his life if it meant that he could be with Antonio.

So this was why other people chased love of their own.

Antonio was taking him back. He didn't deserve it – and perhaps he never would – but it seemed that deserve didn't always need to apply. All that mattered was that they both loved each other. And Lovino would never, ever make the awful mistakes of his past again. The only thing comparable in magnitude to this amazing, unbelievable happiness, was the pain of losing it. And neither The ex-Heartbreaker nor his loving boyfriend ever wanted to experience that again. Once had been once too many, and it had happened more times than that.

A gentle finger nudged under Lovino's chin, and the Italian looked up to see Antonio staring back at him with loving eyes. The well of emotions that bubbled up made Lovino feel like he'd just been sucker-punched in the chest

Tears were still streaking down Lovino's cheeks, and he was so impossibly happy. But he wanted more. Before his brain could even register his actions, he put both of his hands behind Antonio's head and slammed the other's lips against his own. It took a second for the dazed Spaniard to respond, but he quickly reciprocated the action, and the two began kissing each other hard, passionately, gratefully. Attempting to make up for the time they'd missed together.

It was only the need for oxygen that broke them apart some thirty seconds later, and they drew back ever so slightly, eyes locked and shining with devotion and feeling.

Antonio gently nuzzled Lovino's nose with the tip of his own, and sighed contentedly. "May we never be broken again, mi amor."

Lovino couldn't agree with him more.

* * *

**D'awww!**

**This was up fairly quickly, as I had a lot of fun writing it~. These guys deserved some happiness after all the pain I've put them through in the past while. I'm thinking there's going to be one final chapter left of this fic, depending on how much time I have for writing.  
Oh, and the fic now has a spiffy new badly-drawn cover image! Which I also had fun doing~.  
**

**Thanks to everyone who voted in my poll~. (Which I'm going to leave up until this story's finished, if anyone else wants to put in their two cents.) ****Virtual internet cookies for you all! **  



	18. The Lover

"Mmm…It's so comfy here…" Antonio sighed happily. "I don't ever want to leave this bed."

It was about four months later, late in one of those mid-spring evenings that hadn't quite remembered it wasn't winter and wanted to be fairly chilly behind the bright sunshine spattering about earlier in the day. Lovino was lying on his back under the covers of his bed, one arm around Antonio's shoulders. Antonio himself was curled up against him with one arm underneath, one resting on Lovino's chest, and Lovino's legs over the top of his. This had been christened the 'snuggle position' by Antonio; although Lovino never called it such, he still agreed that it was comfortable. Both of them were warm and sleepy, cuddled together in the half-light of Lovino's room, happy and content.

Antonio was glad that he didn't have to leave soon, unlike many previous nights. He'd been relatively quick to propose the idea of living together, as it was still painful for the two to be apart for long periods of time (not that Lovino would ever admit it again). It may have been quick for a relationship, but since they were promised to each other and unlikely to ever be with anyone else, it had been quickly taken up. Lovino's flat had been the place of choice, being the nicer and larger, and Antonio had been happily living there for about a month. He missed his old place a little, but nothing would ever make him not want to be living where he was. No place without Lovino was better than one with him.

"Hmph," Lovino replied, still with his eyes closed. "You're just lucky we don't need to move for ages. Gonna have to move at some point."

"Nahh…" smiled Antonio into Lovino's neck, pressing butterfly kisses to the bare skin. "I never want to move. It's late and we can go to sleep now. Stay here forever with my Lovi~. Yay~!"

"Tch," was the only reply, but Antonio could tell that Lovino was as happy as he was.

"_Te amo_, Lovi," Antonio hummed contentedly into Lovino's neck.

Lovino sighed and clicked his tongue, but his arms around Antonio tightened slightly and he replied a few seconds later, "_Anch'io ti amo_, bastard."

"Despite how much you tried to fight it," Antonio kissed Lovino's neck briefly and smiled up at him.

"Shut the fuck up," was Lovino's prompt response. "I didn't _mean_ to fight it…well, I kind of did, but…you just…oh shut up. You're annoying, damn it."

Antonio giggled. "You still love me though."

"I said shut the goddamn fuck up!" A reddish tinge was beginning to work its way up Lovino's cheeks. Antonio loved Lovino's blush. It was so adorable; it made Lovino look a little bit like a tomato. But, more than anything, he loved it because Antonio was the only person, out of the whole town, everyone Lovino had ever met, and was ever likely to meet, who could make him react like that, and it made his heart swell. Lovino could deny it all he liked, but Antonio knew he didn't mind that fact.

Antonio laughed again and settled back down into their comfortable hug. "Only 'cos you know I'm right."

Lovino poked him in the back, annoyed about being teased. "Bastard."

"Love you too, _querido."_ Antonio kissed him briefly one last time and closed his eyes blissfully. He could sleep a thousand nights in Lovino's arms.

Lovino clicked his tongue. "Fine, you can win this round. But only 'cos I want to sleep, damn it." His sentence was interrupted by a quiet yawn, and Antonio briefly wished he had his eyes open to witness that cute sight. "_Buonanotte_, moron."

"Mmm," Antonio replied sleepily. "But I'm your moron. _Buenos noches_."

"Yeah…my moron," was Lovino's quiet reply. He rested his head against Antonio's, and the pair let the quiet, content calm overtake the room and their minds.

XxxxX

Even after all this time, Lovino wasn't entirely sure what it was that just made him unable to leave Antonio. Maybe it was that smile that would light up a room. Maybe it was that warm, safe embrace that Lovino could snuggle down and drown in and be forever happy. Maybe it was those kind words that always knew exactly how to cheer him up. Maybe it was that Antonio had been the only person to break down Lovino's walls, the only person to see him for real and love him for it. Maybe it was the fact that he'd forgiven him, even after all the awful things he'd said and done. Or maybe it was just plainly and simply down to the fact that Lovino wholeheartedly loved him.

He smiled softly into the darkness, glad that no one could see him do so in the inky-black room. Antonio had been asleep for a while now, at least as far as Lovino could tell. Lovino was slightly relieved; Antonio always went a little mad when he smiled, like he'd just seen something amazing for the first time and he'd never see it again. It wasn't like Lovino never smiled, it just…didn't happen much. Although since Antonio had crashed his way back into his life, Lovino had been smiling a bit more often than he had. He couldn't help it; even though he didn't like outwardly showing it, he was happy.

_Even after a month, even after the four months before it, even after all the crazy events before we got back together, I still can't believe this has happened, sometimes. I never thought someone would want me for who I am, as opposed to a charming admirer. And then…without me even realising, it happened. I'd always considered true love to be a marketing campaign at best, just something for naïve chumps to chase and blame stupid actions on. But now…it's really real, and I have it. Fuck, I don't deserve it, not by a long shot. I don't know why Antonio stays with me after all that I did to him. But I can't really question that. I have him, and he has me, and that's all there is to it, really. It's all there needs to be. And it's crazy, but this is the first time I've even been really, truly happy. When smiles on my face have been real, not just part of a scam. When I'm glad to come home each night because I know it's not just an empty apartment, or plans of lies, or a ton of work waiting for me when I get back. It's someone I love. And I'd always thought I would never love. I'd tried my hardest to avoid it, do the opposite, even. But, through it all, I went from being The Heartbreaker to The Heartbroken, and then Antonio and I fixed our broken hearts together into one. And I know that sounds a bit cliché, but it's pretty much true. And I really hope things don't change from how they are now._

There was a rustle of movement next to him, and Lovino could see just well enough in the blackness to be able to tell that Antonio was staring at him.

"Lovi," his lover breathed. "That…that was beautiful."

A fiery heat rushed to Lovino's face, and he was glad the darkness was there to hide his red-hot blush. "Oh fuck…I said all that out loud?"

Antonio nodded and pulled Lovino into a tight hug, nuzzling at his neck. "Mmm. Oh, Lovi…" And before Lovino knew it, he was being kissed again; through a passionate haze of emotion, Antonio's lips were soft and warm against his, arms were pulling him close, a pressure building in his chest that almost left him unable to breathe. It was how it always was – Antonio kissing him was different to anyone else. No one else could replicate this euphoria, this emotion, any of it. Lovino loved every wonderful, spinning moment pressed tight against Antonio.

When they broke apart, Antonio was smiling, as usual, but this smile had an agenda of emotion in it. He raised a hand and gently brushed Lovino's hair off his forehead, trailing his fingers down the side of his face before they came to rest at the nape of his neck. "Oh,_ corazón…_" He rested his forehead against Lovino's. "I can't even words right now. You've rendered me speechless."

"Good," Lovino grunted, still embarrassed that he'd said all his thoughts out loud. He usually tried to keep the annoying things in his head where they belonged, instead of letting people hear them and use them against him. "You talk too much, damn it."

Antonio kissed him again before Lovino could faux-complain any further. It was almost like he knew that a single kiss was amazing enough for the words to catch in Lovino's throat. He probably did, and just liked to use it to his advantage. "I need all the words I can to express my love for you, Lovi."

"Whatever happened to being rendered speechless?" Lovino rolled his eyes and stared off to the side, refusing to catch Antonio's eyes. "Or is five seconds a long silence for you? Scrap that, I know it is already."

Antonio laughed musically. "I keep thinking of more words. I like words. I like it most when you're honest with yours too. Most of the time you just keep inside yourself and don't be honest about what you really think. Then there's times like this where you say what you really think, and it's beautiful. I feel so lucky to be the one you chose for real, Lovi." Antonio kissed him again, and, embarrassed as he was, Lovino felt like he was about to melt. "Promise to never ever be breaking any more hearts?"

"You know that's true, dumbass," Lovino scowled.

Antonio caught his chin with long, rough fingers, and brought it up so the two were looking each other in the eyes. That giant, emotional smile was still on his face, and there were even the beginnings of tears welling in his eyes. "Oh, my gorgeous Lovi…" He seemed to be rendered speechless again.

Lovino didn't even understand why Antonio had asked the question in the first place. He'd turned up on his doorstep after hitting rock bottom and begged for forgiveness, what more did the Spaniard want to convince him that he was the only one Lovino wanted to be with, forever? Lovino still wasn't used to this crazy little feeling he'd come to know as love, but he knew there was nothing even close to the warm, wanted feeling that made his chest feel like it was about to burst, the happiness that wanted him to smile sappily despite all his pride. It was like being permanently on drugs, only without the lows, or the illegal consequences. He couldn't help but stare at Antonio, at that amazing, handsome face, those bright green eyes glittering in the dim light of their bedroom, those soft, dishevelled brown curls he wanted to run his fingers through. And Lovino knew for certain he'd made the right choice in following his heart and abandoning the lie he'd been living to follow his dream. It was all he wanted.

And in that love-drunk moment of madness, he blurted, "Will you marry me?"

Antonio gasped, and his jaw dropped. "Huh? Wha…what?"

A bolt of fear shot through Lovino and he drew back. Had he gone too far? Had he just ruined everything in one stupid instant of weakness? Was Antonio going to leave now? Lovino couldn't take that. Not again. He wouldn't be able to make it through that kind of heartbreak again and come out the other end. His breathing came rapid and uneven, lungs failing to supply his oxygen-starved brain. All he could do was watch, frozen, as Antonio sat there…

And suddenly lunged forward to madly kiss him, hard and passionate, one hand on the back of his head, one behind his back. Lovino allowed himself to be pulled close and kissed back just as hard, trying to justify what insanity had taken him to propose so spontaneously, so he could put off facing the answer he was so suddenly afraid of for just a few more moments.

It was some twenty seconds before Antonio pulled away and stared at him in wonder, mouth smiling wider than Lovino had ever known it to. And there really were tears falling down his cheeks this time; and Lovino's too, as the relief flooded through him.

"Lovi, I…" For the third time that night, Antonio seemed to be rendered speechless again. "I…oh, Dios, yes, of course yes. _Te amo_, Lovi!" The Spaniard pulled him into a hug, strong arms wrapping gratefully around him.

"Yeah, well, I don't exactly have a ring on me or anything, so, uh…" Lovino said stiltedly into Antonio's shoulder from the midst of the hug.

Antonio laughed and peppered his face with little kisses. "I don't care! I have you and that's all that matters. We can go get some tomorrow, after work, or at the weekend! Ah, I'm so happy!"

"Hmph," Lovino muttered, trying and failing to stop an identically stupid smile from crossing his own face. "Well, speaking of work, we ought to get back to sleep."

Antonio smirked. "Who cares about _work_, Lovi? We've got _business_ to take care of now." That bright glint that sparkled in his eye and grin on his face, another look Lovino secretly couldn't resist, meant that Lovino really would not regret being exhausted at work tomorrow. Tomorrow was the future, now was a time for each other.

Antonio's tongue invaded his mouth in another breathtaking kiss, and Lovino let his new fiancé take control, happy just to love and be loved. No need to hide anymore, no need to lie, no need to lock his heart up and throw away the key. That key belonged to Antonio now, and Antonio only. It had been the last thing Lovino had ever expected, but he was so glad it had happened.

Lovino didn't care what else would happen in his future anymore, not about friends, career, anything. So long as he could spend the rest of his life like this, safe and loved in Antonio's arms, he'd be happy. They'd both be happy. He loved Antonio. And Antonio loved him.

Everything else was just detail.

* * *

**And there we have it! The Heartbreaker, at its completion. **

**Took me ages to write this fluffy little epilogue, but I just did the latter half of it all in one go, and it was so much fun to write~. I write so much better and faster when I'm not being all depressed. I'm kinda sorry to see the end of this story, but I've got another one already three chapters in, and one that's probably going to get its first installment up soon-ish. Feel free to have an investigate *shameless self-plug*. **

**One final big thank you to all for all the support from you readerses, fav-ers, followers, and reviewers! You guys have many awesomes. **


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